Finding The Heart - Book 1
by Tree Wyrm
Summary: Zaeed is trouble; a time bomb waiting to go off at the worst time and [paragon] Shepard knows this. Revelations from his past sow the seeds for him to be unmade but through it she begins to see what made him, who otherwise he could have been, who he could yet be... And a spark ignites between them. [Some MA content]
1. Chapter 1 - Vices

~ Finding The Heart ~

Vices

Disclaimer: the characters in this story are the intellectual property of Bioware, not mine.

WARNING: Rated for MA for future chapters. 16yrs+ readers only please. Foul language, adult concepts, violence. If you are a young adult reader, then I hope between the lines of this story, you'll find some useful insight and advice about how to handle it when you find your own heart some day. Relationships are hard work. Loving someone truly, for all that are and have the potential to be, is hard work.

Author note: This is a re-write of one of my fanfiction stories previously published on under the same title (the old one is still here, just re-named "Finding The Heart – Old version").

When Robin Sachs (voice of the character Zaeed Massani) died, I vowed that I would not only finish writing this story – _Ah... yes... this may look and feel like a complete story, but actually, there's another two parts to it in my head!_ – But that I would also re-write it with improvements, thanks in part to people who have read and reviewed it for me.

As before, I've purposefully tried not to describe Shepard too much, after all, fans of Mass Effect will each have their own versions of Shepard, so I leave those parts up to your imagination. Unfortunately, the graces of the English language (unlike for example, Chinese) do not grant the capacity to write into my story ambiguity of gender. So... apologies to any fan wishing this story were Sheploo not Femshep. I had to pick one.

I dedicate this story to the people that brought us Mass Effect through Bioware; to the voice actors and face models and everyone else who contributed to making characters so believable as to inspire fans like me to write about them. Furthermore, in light of his death, robbing us of the chance to ever hear him bring characters like Zaeed to life ever again, I dedicate this story to Robin Sachs. Only those who knew Robin Sachs personally could ever say how much of his own character and feelings towards his own life's story he brought to Zaeed, but my gut tells me there may be some parallels.

 _To know what defining events and experiences made a person who they are, is to know how to unmake them. You may be able to remake them from there, directing their life along a different path than it would otherwise have taken._

Most people saw Zaeed as too ugly or old to romance – a badass but someone who could never be anything more than that. I saw a different man. I glimpsed inner tenderness (example: Pragia mission). I saw a very lonely old man, and I wanted to give Zaeed a happier ending than his retirement plans, to show that he could have a happy ending _and_ get the galaxy's golden girl _and_ earn her respect enough for her to love him and stay with him... For Robin.

* * *

Shepard drew a deep breath. This was _not_ a conversation she'd rather be having with such a 'loose cannon' on her own, but... it had to be done. _Not alone_ – she reminded herself – _EDI will be monitoring._ Still, the AI's attentive presence did not comfort her. It wasn't that she doubted her own abilities – there was nothing this man could do to her unless _she_ slipped up and let him get too close. Even then she had ways of getting out of tight spots. Even if their skills were fairly evenly matched or even _if_ he pulled off something better, she was confident that her Cerberus upgrades would give her the compensatory brute strength not only to avoid but also to sustain injury. _There are advantages to being... inhuman._ She reminded herself darkly, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

No it wasn't fear of harm that had her hesitating here outside the Starboard Cargo Hold. It was just that she just didn't _want_ to have to deal with  that kind of encounter with someone on her own crew on her own ship. She knew he'd only embarrass himself, and likely further deteriorate... And she _needed_ him, damn it. She needed him right in the head and part of the team. _I need him on top of this, functional, and able to put his skills to use on my command._

She sighed as she pressed the door panel to enter. Zaeed was leaning against the far worktop in his usual pose, except that normally he'd be cleaning something. He was as meticulous as Jacob was when it came to looking after weapons, the only difference being that Zaeed was a _lot_ more attached to his – example: _Jessie_. Keeping them as trophies, memories of times gone by, naming them with sentimental attachment... _Why? Because these are perhaps the only things in his life that have stayed_ _with_ _him? Stayed loyal?_ She pitied him that only an inanimate object wouldn't soon tire of his attitude and bad behaviour. She knew the rest of the crew had tired of both already. Hell she knew she had pretty much had her fill of him, too. Truth be told, her nape had prickled during their very first meeting. If she hadn't been _obliged_ by the Illusive Man to take him onboard for the mission, she'd never have let him set foot aboard the Normandy unless it was under detention.

Today was just the sort of thing that she had, perhaps subconsciously, been waiting for. As she walked towards him she was surprised to find Zaeed attending to none of his prized possessions. Instead, he was fingering a pistol and clip in his hands, with not a cleaning cloth in sight. That was enough to set her on edge if she hadn't been already. She took one step forwards and planted herself in front of him. There was a knife-edged half-breath of silence before he greeted her.

"Shepard." – A cold, quieter-than-usual greeting which sounded less like a greeting and more like a stern ' _Leave, if you know what's best for you_ '. At least the gun remained unmoved. She suspected (with small relief) that she was not his target. _Is it Vido again? I thought he'd put that aside... I don't have time for it if that's what this is all about._

His senses were sharp – more than she would have expected after eyeing the near-empty bottle of real whiskey and the empty shot glass next to it. He'd answered her presence without hesitation, recognising that it was her despite having never lifted his head. She let go (quietly) the half-breath that she'd been holding, only to take in with the next the pungent stench of alcohol... Or rather that terribly smelly excrement formed from the metabolisation of alcohol by the human body – that horrible acrid substance that oozed through skin and permeated breath. It was pretty revolting smell when you yourself weren't drinking, and presently the hold was _saturated_ by it. She instinctively blinked but maintained her composure, trying not to notice it, only then remembering that actually she'd had no intention of hiding her disapproval.

"Zaeed." She nodded, with a careful measure of respect but a tone in her voice that commanded attention. _I'll not have drunken tantrums on_ _my_ _ship, thank you very much._ She adopted a cool stare. The thought of becoming so dependent upon a substance disgusted her. Sure, people had vices, but she didn't have to like that in anyone. A person with a vice could be manipulated, and she could simply no longer afford that vulnerability – certainly not in a member of her own crew. Not when the Reapers had an expansive intelligence network and the inclination to exploit such weaknesses. She'd seen them do that before... albeit through alien eyes, thanks to the Prothean beacons. She couldn't doubt the likelihood of that scenario playing out in _this_ cycle.

Shepard, for her own part, did not _have_ vices. She had made a principle of it, ever since she saw what that kind of weakness could do to a person. Shepard knew what it was like to be of lesser value to a person than their vice. _I'm probably wasting my time here too, but I have to try... I'm running short on allies as of late._ Zaeed continued his ministrations. There was something about the way he caressed the gun that frankly disturbed her. Something was off,  he was... He'd become unhinged in some way. Cold settled in her stomach: _Whatever's been eating at him must've been coming to a head, right as I walked through the door_. The supposition shocked her. _Surely_ _he_ _wouldn't..?! Of all the people I've known he'd be the last I'd expect to..._

"So... you've come to give me a good telling-off I take it," Zaeed interrupted her thoughts, "...put me to right about my little _habit_ there." He motioned to the bottle with a tilt of his head and shift of an elbow, never taking his eyes off the weapon he toyed with in his hands. His jaw was tense. Shepard noted how he hadn't yet taken a breath. His anger was palpable – a seething hatred that mixed into the air and left it biting cold.

If this had been anyone other than crew, in any other place in any other situation, she might have dismissed reasoning with this man as being utterly pointless (and likely life-threatening) and instead just walked away. Trying to reason with such a person was the sort of job that only rehab counsellors have the time and patience to afford to do, and that was only because it was their life's profession, they could tag-team, they _always_ had back-up and they usually got very well paid for their trouble.

If it had been anyone else she didn't explicitly _need_ she might have left him to it. You saw it everywhere on Omega – there comes a point where it pretty much takes a life (in time and effort) to mend a life, and a lifetime was a far more than she was willing to give this man. But she  did need him, so she knew she hadto try. It was that or turf him off the ship. The darker side of her added: _in a body bag, if you want to make sure he can't be used to derail the mission later._ She dismissed that thought not wanting to contemplate the precedent it would set and the kind of person she'd be turning into by doing it. For now, she could avoid that decision: clearly he wanted to say more... Perhaps he was going to tell her a morbid story that could explain all of this – after all he _always_ had a story... So she waited and simply stared at him expectedly.

"I take it that means yes. So. Who told?" He lifted his eyes but not his face to Shepard, glaring at her from under furrowed brows with a toothy, aggressive grin. "Who do I have to thank for this little... visit?" - There was a slight snarl in that as he asked. "Kelly with her 'I'm here to help you' counselling codswallop _?_ Miranda miss-high-and-mighty?" Then with a slight pause: "Or did I just look at someone funny over breakfast?" He tilted his head with that last question, smirking sinisterly.

Sure. But of course – he wasn't going to make this easy, now was he? _Why would I ever even think otherwise._ "Actually none  and all of the above." She said nonchalantly, "With regards to breakfast, I hardly consider lifting Jackson's tray into his face then planting Gardner's face into Jacob's chicken salad 'looking at someone funny' Zaeed-" [Zaeed starts chuckling] "-so why don't we cut the crap, and pretend that this is a conversation where you tell me _exactly_ what is getting under your skin and why, then we deal with it, move on, so we can get back to _real_ business again."

She maintained a relaxed expression with that. Humour was a tactic Anderson had used on her in her fiery youth. _Never forget that Sun Tzu's 'The Art of War' applies to more than just fighting,_ he had told her, _you must_ _live_ _by it._ _You_ _must decide when, where and how your enemy will face you, but that works as well in conversations as on the battlefield. I can't win an argument with you when you're completely set on being angry, so I come at you sideways and give you reason to think about what is bothering you in a different frame of mind._ She had to admit: it usually worked. Of course, Shepard figured that Zaeed would be twice as hard to handle as she had been – even when she was a short-tempered recruit. For starters Zaeed was older, which meant he probably had a stick up his ass about taking seriously _anything_ personal that someone younger than himself might have to say about him or anything else, for that matter.

"Hmph. ' _I'm sorry_ '." – with a healthy dose of sarcasm. There was an awkward pause were Shepard realised just how hard he was probably going to make this before he added: "That what I'm supposed to say? But you know the way you describe what happens makes it sound so funny, I _almost_ feel like going back up there and doing it all over again." He laughed, and it wasn't a nice laugh. It was the kind of laugh that might come from a sadistic bastard right before he cut off your finger... But there was no way in Hell Shepard was about to get intimidated by _him_. She downright _refused_ to give him that pleasure.

"Cut the crap Zaeed." – She said in the politest tone she could manage, low toned and quiet but with a snap in the consonants knowing full well the button she was pressing in doing so. Pushing this man, this obviously mentally unstable and yet rather veteran man, was probably not a sensible thing to do. But it was the only way to get to the bottom of this. Yell at him and you'd end up with a fight and little information out of him if any at all, but being polite and level-headed would get under his skin and make him react. She assessed that he wouldn't be able to resist an opportunity for cruelty in his present state of mind so she gave it to him, because through it she would gain better quality information: if she approached him with calm reason, he would come back at her with a verbal knife, the shape of which would tell her something.

It worked. Zaeed got up and stormed over to her, eyes so fierce he could have been back at that refinery on Zorya the day she forced him to let Vido go. His finger (clip held in the fist that accompanied it) jabbed the air close to her nose whilst the arm with the gun waved around to the other side of her head as he snarled right back: "Why don't _YOU_ cut the crap, Shepard? Enough with this 'I care-share'... bloody rubbish! I expect it from Chambers,  not from you!"

"Zaeed." Shepard levelled her eyes with the mercenary, which meant looking up just a little when she wasn't in armour and he was, "Either you're going to tell me what is going on so we can fix this, or we're going to have a _problem._ "

"Don't play this like you want to bury your nose in my business because all you're going to do is get _burned_." He snarled. "If you think I'm trouble you should throw me off this ship at next port, I'll take my money and leave. If you figure you need me, then you put up with me and stop wasting my time coming down here, giving me grief about things that're none of your  goddamn business!"

Shepard was breaking her own rules. His face was within five inches of hers – _way too close for safety._ She could smell the overbearing stench of alcohol on his breath. But she did have the door at her back. Frankly though, seeing this side of him just made her even less tolerant of him and a whole lot more angry. She wasn't about to head for that door any time soon. _I'll put you out and drag you to the infirmary for detox if I have to..._ Was what she was thinking. _Time for the gloves to come off._

"Oh I'll go one better than that." She shook her head and smiled as she kept the low tone and volume of her voice. "You start _talking_ or I space you." _...And_ _I'm only half-bluffing._

"You wouldn't _dare._ " He squinted his eyes at her, but she could tell he wasn't a hundred percent certain of that.

"I've killed people for less." She shrugged. That was a blatant lie because she always had a reason, but other people didn't always see it that way or realise how much she _did_ think of reasons, every time. Such was the grand public interpretation of her actions and the reputation she had built, and she knew Zaeed knew her by _reputation_ first and foremost, so she now used that to her advantage.

"So what? What the Hell difference does it make if I have a little drink now n' then?"

Obviously he'd had a little more to drink than he could normally take and still stay focused in an argument, or he wouldn't say something so blatantly flawed. He was looking for a fight but he was being far too straight forward about it. His speech was also getting more slurred as it became more impassioned.

"I'll explain that again in more detail, shall I?" Shepard raised her brows patronisingly, "With the knowledge you have, I can't take the risk that you'll spill it out to the highest bidder when you leave." She dropped her eyebrows for a sterner look. "You're on this ship at _my_ discretion, and you're not _leaving_ it until your contract is fulfilled – and _I_ say when that is – or I put you in a coffin. Now if you would rather I put you in a coffin sooner, you just keep on going Zaeed because you're walking a very _fine_ line."

He launched at her – another sign of his condition because he was trying to use the gun as a bludgeon instead of what it was designed for - she blocked the blow but it was too close not to knock her backwards. He grabbed at her, swung her around by her tunic (she allowed this, for now) and pinned her to the wall. "Now you pay attention to me, _lil'_ girl!" He didn't notice the knife she pulled from beneath her tunic and now had poised at a weak point in his side armour (she'd only use it if he forced her hand, but it was ready nonetheless). "I'm not taking orders from anyone about what  I do with my own body – what I do with my _own_ body in my _own_ time is my _own_ goddamn business!" His words were really slurring now, and his voice was less than stable. "An' you best stay out o' my way if you know what's good for you!"

Seeing such a proud man in this state was embarrassing. He reeked of alcohol. Still some part of her pitied him, remembering perhaps the somebody she had lost so long ago: the one friend she'd failed to help. _No. I didn't fail. It was_ _his_ _problem. He wouldn't deal with it. I couldn't do anything. I did my best but I couldn't do anything. Friendship can only go so far... But damn it I_ _need_ _this bastard. I'd have walked away by now if I didn't. Too many enemies and too few heroes... Hell maybe I wasn't kidding about spacing him but..._

"Bear in mind I've got a knife ready to bleed you if you don't give an honest answer: _why_ are you pushing people away? What is it you're trying so hard not to let me see?"

The mental trick she'd seen Anderson use so well seemed to work. His self preservation instincts prickled at the realisation of the knife, and the anger momentarily subsided – enough for emotional exhaustion to kick in at that momentary panic. "I'm tired..." He began, then letting go of her he stumbled backwards, as if winded. "I'm tired of _living_ Shepard. I've been around long enough to know that everything ends. Nothing stays with you 'til the end. Best you can do is make it an end at a time and place of your choosing." His words were very slurred now.

Her memory flashed back to the diary entries pulled up from the Shadow Broker's archives on him, including his retirement plan. _Was_ _that_ _what he was doing with the pistol..?!_ Shepard felt a little ill. Zaeed was never a man she would expect to ever take his own life – he was just too hell bent on surviving for that. Even just the thought of that diary entry gave her the chills the first time she read it. She couldn't help but wonder: _What did this to him..?_

"So, what? You were just going to shoot yourself in the head, leave me a man down and a mess to clean up in the cargo bay?" She folded her arms, tucking the knife into a sleeve and out of sight as she did so. "Thanks for that." _No sympathy. Hammer it home that everything isn't just about him, make him have to justify why it_ _should_ _be right now, make him have to explain himself._

"What's it mean to _you_ anyhow? Huh? I'm just a gun for hire." He sounded pitiful, waving the gun in the air and shaking his head, "My best years are behind me. I..." He turned away and caught the desk where he then stopped and stared at his weapons. Either she scared some sobriety into him, or the alcohol was starting to wear off. "I..." He paused, remaining silent for a painfully long time.

He seemed to take a long moment to ingest what had just transpired. Finally he let go a long breath and added curtly at the end of it: "Thanks, Shepard." She could hear how that had choked him, which must mean he at least partly meant it. "I think... I want to be left alone awhile." He swallowed and cleared his throat. When he didn't hear her footsteps headed towards the door he added, hoarsely: "I'll... take some time, think it over. You can leave now." His voice was calm enough, although beaten. He was dismissing her, but she was pretty sure she'd made her point. He slumped a little.

Shepard shelved her frustration temporarily and walked over to him, determined to offer some kind of reward for his backing down and saving her the trouble of knocking him out. Gingerly placing a hand on his shoulder – "Hey," – she leaned around to see his face and smirked in her own darkly cheerful way. "Just because I'll space you if I can't have you without that bottle doesn't mean I don't need you, and wouldn't rather have you on the team. Doesn't mean I don't appreciate that this is going to take some time, either." Then sobering her expression: "But I do expect you to see Dr Chakwas at 09:00h tomorrow morning regardless how bad your head hurts, and she's going to help. In the mean time, if you need to talk, or want to talk, even if it's just to tell me another of your epic stories, you know where to find me, alright?" With that she ended the conversation with a gentle smile – something she knew Zaeed may never have seen before which meant she hoped it had a positive impact.

Zaeed nodded, that was all. He let out this huge long sigh and just nodded. Shepard decided then to leave, to afford the man a little dignity.


	2. Chapter 2 - The Matryoshka Doll

~ Finding The Heart ~

The Matryoshka Doll

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the intellectual property of Bioware, not mine.

WARNING: Rated for MA for future chapters. 16yrs+ readers only please. Foul language, adult concepts.

Author note: I've purposefully tried not to describe Shepard too much, after all, fans of Mass Effect will each have their own versions of Shepard, so I leave those parts up to your imagination.

* * *

Shepard reviewed her messages having showered and dressed, mulling over the 'Zaeed situation' as she did so. Actually she'd been doing that on and off all night. _Been a long time since I've been in this position_. It was easy enough to deal with people failing themselves the way Zaeed was failing himself when they were not in any way close to her. But Zaeed was crew, and damn it all if she didn't _always_ grow attached to crew – even the ones she didn't particularly get along with or would rather never have set foot on her ship. She _had_ tried to keep her distance from this mercenary, never being too fond of people who killed for money. Thane was an interesting comparison in that respect, because Shepard had absolutely no problem with him.

You _could_ argue that Thane was infinitely the worse of the two: previously killing pretty much  anybody, completely devoid of conscience, claiming that responsibility for his actions lay solely on the shoulders of the person who had sent him. Nonetheless Thane was just so well grounded – spiritually and mentally – and killing was never a means to money for him: it was only ever his fulfilling of someone else's needs and he did it _selflessly_. In that way he had a kindness to him and a sense of right and wrong even if, in a strange, disembodied way, he had detached himself from that once upon a time in order to do his duty. Zaeed on the other hand, was only ever in anything for personal gain, and he'd made that very clear on a number of occasions.

She looked at the clock and checked her inbox again and was relieved to note that this morning Zaeed had, indeed, made it to the infirmary. _Maybe there's hope for him yet,_ she scowled. She considered the prospect of hope, then quickly dismissed it. _Don't get your hopes up. Rare for someone to make it back out of this kind of problem... And at the moment he can't even be distracted from his addiction by 'point and shoot' instructions._ She noted he wasn't the only one who'd benefit from a little battle action: _It's been too quiet – whole_ _crew_ _is getting itchy feet..._ But just as she was musing over the prospect of _wanting_ trouble, trouble it seems, came looking for her (in a manner of speaking): her door beeped.

"Who is it EDI?"

"Mr Massani is here to see you. Do you permit him to enter?"

Shepard sighed and checked to see if there was anything she didn't want visible to visitors on her console whie closing down anything she was working on that could not be accomplished without distractions. "Yes EDI go ahead and let him in – thank you."

"Shepard." He announced quietly as his footsteps approached her back – he stopped a meter or so away. She didn't look up from her console, only motioning for him to go and sit down in the seated area with the coffee table, maintaining the pretence that she was very busy, and things were business as usual. He hesitated for a moment, then the clink of armour and thud of boots followed her given directions.

"Zaeed." She acknowledged then, without missing a keystroke as she shifted a couple of documents from her console to her portable pad. "Visit to Dr Chakwas?"

"You already _know_ I've been." _Taking that tone with me is not going to score you points, Mr Massani._

"Progress?" Document transfer complete, she laboriously keyed the console to close a few windows at a time – various other items she would have to attend to later – working her way towards closing her access to the terminal.

Zaeed let out an aching sigh. "Meds – pills and an injection. Says my liver needs a rest." She could hear the dark humour in his voice; she knew the smirk he'd be wearing.

"Good. Anything else I should know?" She timed the question with the power-down key stroke for her console as she turned around and glanced at him through the glass between her models. She knew he'd spot the movement.

Zaeed took a deep breath. There was a long pause. "...Yeah." He let that out with a long gust of air. Shepard grabbed the pad and rounded the corner of her model display as he let out another aching sigh. "Look. Shepard." He stared at his hands with his shoulders slumped. She had expected as much: the first words out of his mouth were going to be defensive. She approached him casually and sat on the sofa a few feet away. She scrutinised him with an even stare, waiting on his words. "This isn't easy. I've spent nearly twen'y years of my life with little more than a bottle and a gun to keep me company. Before that?" Another pause. "Hell I never realised it, but life wasn't really that much better... I just _thought_ it was."

 _OK... I'll give a little if you give a little._ "You've had a lot of bad people in your life. A lot of betrayal." Shepard acknowledged patiently, with a measured tone of sympathy. She honestly couldn't blame him for having trust issues – Vido, that Asari lover he once mentioned – but she knew Zaeed would not appreciate _pity_.

He chuckled, "Bad people? Hell Shepard I am 'bad people'. I'm as bad as you ever dreamed a man could be and still be sane." He did _so_ seem to enjoy toying with her righteousness. On the brighter side at least it was a sign he was seemingly getting back to being himself again if he was able to make 'I'm a badass' jokes.

Shepard raised an eyebrow with just a hint of a smile as she rolled her eyes and said: "Sure. Rotten to the core, if you want to call yourself that. It makes no difference." She shook her head, and then purposefully sobered her expression back to her logical, emotionless facade: "It's always going to be hard fitting into a crew like this one. Doesn't make it any easier that I run this ship tight, and I expect everyone to look out for each other."

"Yeah..." He gusted. "Not really used to having someone have my back Shepard. Last time I let someone do that he paid six of _my_ men to restrain me while he put a gun to my head n' pulled the trigger."

"Vido is not someone I would have ever trusted at my back. But I _need_ to be able to trust  you, Zaeed." _By the way_ _I can be high and mighty about my trust judgements because I'm damned right._

"If I've got such bad judgement, then what the hell should I do about deciding if I should trust you, eh?" He eyed her with a sober glare and forced smile. Shepard could tell that underneath the dark humour, that was almost an honest question.

"For starters I saved your ass on Zorya despite the fact that you lied to me about the mission, and despite the fact that on that day you proved you could sometimes cause more trouble than you were worth."

"That just makes you naive or stupid." He scowled at her under furrowed brows.

"No it makes me an excellent commander. I know when you are useful, I know when you are not, but I _always_ give members of my crew a chance to demonstrate the former even if they demonstrate the latter first." Shepard sighed. "Cerberus has had me picking up a lot of strong personalities – it's naive of them to think I can work miracles and make everyone get along. Just look at Miranda and Jack." She shook her head.

"I won't lie to you – I did _not_ want you on my crew. Not one bit. But I took you onboard 'for the cause', and because I still felt like I owed the Illusive Man a little leeway and should humour him on his choices, at least at the beginning. We're _all_ in it 'for the cause'." Shepard took a breath and stared straight at him with conviction: " _But..._ If we're going to meet that cause head-on and make a difference, we _have_ to work together. That means trust. That means I _also_ get to stick my nose in where it isn't wanted, because it's my job to get to the bottom of things and make sure my squad stays functional."

"Don't appreciate people interfering with my life..." Zaeed sneered.

"I'm not giving you the choice. Now you either talk to Chambers, or you talk to me. Whatever it is that's driving you to act the way you have been the past month or so has to come out, it has to come to an end."

Shepard sat there in silence, waiting on the man to respond. She was, to put it bluntly, rather surprised he'd not had some smart-ass comeback to that. When she realised what he was working up to, she could barely believe it: it had been a long time since someone this deep in trouble had chosen _her_ to bear that burden with them. Truth be told... part of her didn't want him to chose her over Chambers. Truth be told... She didn't want to know. She had no love and little patience for this man at the best of times.

 _People have to know themselves to help themselves – Tali, Garrus, Samara? Those are people smart enough to have learned that, so I am able and willing to help them. But you? You remind me too much of someone who doesn't want to take responsibility for themselves. But I guess I have to give you at least one chance to prove to me you can be better than that._

So she gave him time, watched as he stared at the glass of the fish tank hard enough to burn a hole in it, watched as he breathed laboured breaths, observed patiently the clenching and unclenching of his jaw. One hand was curled around the fist of the other as he sat leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees in contemplation. Slowly his face relaxed a little and he started talking:

"I wasn't always like this, y'know." He started softly, "But life can make a man hard when it backs him up against the wall." Shepard leaned back against the sofa and relaxed. It seemed to be his way of detaching himself from things past: telling them like a story. She knew if she stayed silent that he'd slip into a sort of trance; the answers to her questions then spilling out as a narrative. _Let's see if anything interesting turns up, and how you deal with it._ Sure enough he continued.

"Before you were born 'Earth Alliance Space' wasn't exactly the shiny-clean list of picture-perfect colonies they advertised, you know, and if you were poor: it didn't matter where you went. Same shit, different rock. Dunno what my parents ever expected of me; dragging me around like unwanted baggage, colony to colony, looking for work and always showing up too late to the party to get anything decent. By the time I was seventeen I'd carved out my _own_ way of taking care of myself. I was big enough and tough enough to take down people my own age easy enough. I discovered _force_ was a good way to get what you want. Never had much conscience 'bout it either." He grinned at that.

"Vido was _always_ my wingman. Had been since we met when he was eleven and I was fourteen; when my parents moved to his city. We were neighbours, see, down in the hovels of the poor and desperate. Didn't take us long to work out an arrangement: he'd set 'em up and I'd knock 'em down." Zaeed chuckled. "Then our folks dragged us off Mars onto one of the other shitty colonies and our friendship only got stronger after that. The only good thing our parents ever did for us was to try and keep us together – where his went, mine went and vice versa. Anyway wherever we were school was a joke so me n' Vido we focused on our other 'aptitudes'. Wasn't long before we'd got a gang together with bodies to spare. _Delegation_ Vido called it –" Another laugh. "– give _them_ the shit to do, take most of the winnings for ourselves." Zaeed had a sadistic grin on his face while Shepard refrained from shaking her head disapprovingly.

"Had our choice of wannabes and groupies too, of course. _Bad boys_... What they say about women wanting what ain't good for them certainly rings true in my experience. Like moths to a flame. Stringin' along several at a time... Good times."

 _When did this turn into reminiscing about sexual conquests? Seriously, what makes him think I'd_ _ever_ _want to know these things?_ Shepard tried desperately hard not to flinch in disgust or glare at him with contempt, although she believed both should apply in this instance.

"And of course the more successful we were the more choice we got. 'Course there were always disputes with other gangs. Other gangs didn't like the fact we were getting all the action – both on the field and off. They'd come at us, we'd take 'em out, recruit anyone fast enough to swear their allegiance to us, kill the rest – less trouble that way."

Shepard again tried to hide her gut reaction to this, and hoped he didn't catch that little flit of her eyes as they tried to roll in disrespect. Thankfully he was well-set into his storytelling now. She wondered if he'd notice if she got up and made herself some coffee... If the story was going to continue like this, she might just need it. _How did I end up in this position?_ She asked herself as he continued. _Why couldn't he choose Kelly? Why the hell did I even give him the option of telling me any of this? That was stupid Shepard... Now you have to sit and listen..._

"But they say in every man's life there comes a time when a woman gets under his skin and messes him up."

 _Wait. What?_

He shifted position, relaxed his arms for a moment before propping his chin up, hand-over-fist, elbows over his knees. "I guess you could say that happened to me." Zaeed's voice took on a softer tone, quieter. "Pretty little thing she was. I used her, same as I did the others but she... She had this tenderness, see?" He raised his eyebrows and pulled an expression Shepard had never seen before. He was – heaven forbid – almost smiling, but it was a gentle smile and that's what made it unprecedented. "After a while," he continued, "I started to notice things, little things about her. She'd have bare cupboards if I checked," He raised an index finger and ticked his head to one side, "but when I dropped by she'd have a proper meal for me to eat. 'How was your day darling?' she'd ask, jokingly of course but all the same it was sweet. She always asked..."

His smile was kind as he stared vacantly ahead in recollection of the memory. Shepard looked at this ageing bounty hunter. Just for that moment she thought she could see a different man altogether – perhaps it was the shadow the man he could have been. Her stomach tingled as if she'd just witnessed some amazing magic trick, and she was left just as baffled. She started to feel sorry for him, as in actually sad for him, and that was something new.

"' _Don't know what you've got 'til it's gone'_ , right? Don't I know that all... too... well." He shook his head and rubbed at his eyes, wrinkling his nose. The smile faded. "Somehow she'd clung to my life for a year or two, and s'pose you could say we were 'stable'. I stopped seeing other girls behind her back – I just... lost interest in them, though I didn't really know why. For the first and only time in my _life_ I can honestly say I felt like the more I gave, the more I got in return. Had nigh on a year like that. Hell... I'm not sure if I ever considered marrying her, not back then, but by God I should have – guess I was just too young and stupid to realise it. _C_ ocky, too - that much hasn't changed." He smirked and lowered his eyelids in that admission.

"Anyway by that time me n' Vido were getting close to founding the Blue Suns. We were winning contracts left, right and centre – real work, hired guns kind o' work. Less like a gang, more like a mercenary band. We made no few enemies as that kicked off, never seemed to catch us up to us though: we took 'em _all_ on, and we took 'em _all_ out. I thought we were invincible..." He paused, and his voice turned low and gravelly as if the words were hard to get out: "...Until that day."

Shepard watched as his face turned cold and pale. His fingers now laced to form a moustache across his mouth. Beads of sweat started to form on his forehead, and for her part she had a sick feeling in her stomach as she anticipated what was coming. He let out this huge sigh...

"They got to her." His eyes widened as he spoke, "Another gang, I mean." He flinched with a nod of his head in Shepard's direction when he caught the fact he'd not explained. "I was gonna tell her the news that we were starting the Blue Suns that evening. I was gonna get her out of that damp-ridden shitty apartment and put her somewhere bigger that very weekend. Plan was I'd give her a stable income. Plan was – I don't know – that I'd _keep_ her."

"Her 'honest job' paid fuck-all, barely even paid the bills anyway. Meritocracy..." Zaeed sneered with a scowl: "What a load of cobblers – whatever wanker it was that came up with that shitty concept should have been gutted and left for the crows." Air snorted out of his nose in resentment but he shook his head of the bitterness and recovered the thread of his story:

"Anyway I showed up at her apartment with a bottle of wine to give her the news but then turning the corridor I got this whiff of smoke and burning furniture." He almost spat as he spoke, and clenched his fist. "I dropped the bottle and ran flat out. Door wouldn't open – damn near fried myself kickin' it open. The pressure difference threw me back against the wall like a rag doll; knocked me out cold. Somebody must've dragged me out the building after that. When I came to on the concrete outside with medics crawling all over me I stared up at the block and just watched as the whole place _burned_..." Zaeed's eyes glistened and the rims reddened as he whispered, staring off into the memory as his voice grew shaky: "There was nothing... nothing but flames..." He shook his head slowly from side to side.

The sight of this man as he was now could be described in one word: broken. She could see his eyes watering and found herself wanting to reach for his hand. She could see the awful pain in his expression – the anger and overwhelming sorrow. _But... surely this was years ago? Why is it messing him up_ _now_ _..?_

"For _years_ I wondered if maybe I'd've tried to make it through those flames I'd've been able to save her. As it was the whole place was scorched to ashes and me damn near with it. Not a trace of anything left. I couldn't go to the police – I was a wanted man and they had no few crooked coppers on the older gangs' payroll so that it would've been stupid to go to _them_. There was just nobody to answer the question of whether or not she had been there – the residents had scattered. All witnesses disappeared. But Vido got a message the next day, sayin' that..." His lip quivered as he spat out the words: "...It was payback and a warning to us not to mess with the Demon Maws. At least then I knew why all the witnesses fled like rats from a sinking ship." He growled.

"They were our last and biggest rivals – the Demon Maws – and they had a long-standing reputation of making sure nobody who saw them do their dirty work _dared_ tell about it. Normally 'cause they were dead. Those sons of bitches had gone through _her_ to get to me and Vido. When Vido read the things they said they'd done to her before they burned her my blood _boiled_ n' I went fucking berserk! Vido pulled me together enough to get me moving, and the pair of us gathered up our gang and hunted them down like the animals they were! We killed every last fucking one of them – _slowly,_ one by one _._ " He snarled, and grinned a horrid smile as he relished that memory. Queasiness settled in Shepard's stomach at the sight of it: she _knew_ what that likely meant he'd done, what it meant he was capable of.

"There wasn't a chance she could've escaped. Not a chance. They burned her _alive._ " He sank his face into his hands. "After that... I hurt so much I just swore I'd never have anyone close to me who couldn't take down twenty armed men on their own – man, woman, or alien." He shook his head and shrugged. "I used prostitutes for anything else I needed. I got _mean_. Vido and me we got the Blue Suns started and in the months that followed I threw myself into getting the band up and running. It was a lot of work but I didn't mope. I just got even against the world. I took it out on every son-of-a-bitch that stood in my way and I _enjoyed_ my work. Enjoyed it ever since." Zaeed let out this growling sigh. "I'd be lying if I said I had even the slightest inkling of what she really meant to me back then. Rage is a _hell_ of an anaesthetic."

 _So this is what it takes to make a monster. Poor bastard, no wonder he's such an asshole... It's what he comes from. How much of this was a path he chose, and how much of it was a path that had been laid out before him to follow..?_ Shepard looked to the stars and spoke to anyone out there godlike enough to hear her thoughts and control the fates of mortals: _Sometimes, you have a sick sense of humour, you know that right?_

"Zaeed..." Shepard began, assuming this was the end of the story as he had stopped speaking and now looked at her with a haunted expression, "I don't know if anyone knows about all this except Vido but... I think I understand. Give it some time and I think –"

– _You and I could be friends..._

– _The crew could get to know you and maybe even like you..._

– _You could have a home here, peace and comfort..._

– _You don't have to get past this on your own..._

– _So she meant more to you than you realised, and you regret you didn't do more to appreciate it at the time. That's OK - sometimes life just doesn't give you any chances to do better..._

Well at least those were the sorts of things she might have said, had she been given the chance. As it was she never got the opportunity to finish her sentence. Zaeed cut her off with this look of maddening desperation on his face and his voice faltered as he shouted:

"No you _don't_ understand!" Shepard was frozen to the spot by the fact that now he was staring straight at her, none too friendly and twice as crazy. "Here on the Normandy, no would-be competitors to shoot, no whores to fuck and less easy access to liquor than I'd like... _I_ started _thinking_. Thinking - For Christ's sake!" He yelled that last bit with greater volume and Shepard flinched, sitting close enough for that to hurt her ears. "Started thinkin' about the day she died again and the many unanswered questions I'd had that day that I'd never spared the time to think about before."

Zaeed shook his head. "Shear fucking _boredom_ got me using EDI to hunt for information but I gotta tell you: that AI should be a fucking detective. It was just news reports from that time I had her hunting for, things like that at first. Then the more I looked at it the more things _didn't_ add up." He raised a hand and clenched it into a fist. "There had been reports that the fire had spread and there had been people escaping the apartment complex, but when I saw one particular piece of footage shot by a passer-by with an omni-cam of a woman being rushed into an ambulance, by god my heart stopped beating... It was _her_ Shepard. I was _sure_."

He stood up and started pacing back and forth, arms gesturing agitatedly. "After I'd done some digging around, I finally tracked down one of the neighbours. After some financial persuasion I got him to talk to me. Turns out one of the other neighbours she was friends with heard what was happening when the gang broke into her apartment. Too much of a goddamned coward to do anything about it as they raped her, but he waited for the gang to leave then rushed into the apartment to find her, call an ambulance and take her to hospital."

His eyes watered, "She was _alive_ _,_ Shepard! All this time and _I_ never knew!" He technically _was_ smiling as he looked down towards Shepard, but if this story had a happy ending that smile was far too crazy for her to believe it. The man was getting seriously disturbed. He paced back the other way:

"At first I couldn't believe it. Then it hit me hard – like a rail transit bus to the face at 200 kmph – how much she'd meant to me." He slammed a fist into an open palm to emphasise that statement. He paced back to her again: "It hit me just how much she could _still_ mean to me. Remember you gave me leave to go check something out? Well that's what it was for – I went to find _her_."

Shepard recalled the brief leave she had afforded the crew – just a day to breathe after the suicide run at the Collectors, and she remembered how unusually cheerful Zaeed had been that day, but not when he returned. She'd just put it down to the fact that shore leave was something to look forward to, coming back to facing the Reapers: not so much. Apparently she'd been very wrong. Thinking back, she realised he started to deteriorate into this mess not so very long after that.

He paced away again, stopped when he reached the fish tank, back turned. His shoulders slumped, head hanging low, fists clenched at his sides, arms rigid straight. Shepard had to strain to hear the low mumbling of his voice from where she sat:

"I don't _know..._ what I wanted..." He shook his head. "To say sorry, maybe? When we took out the Demon Maws it was big news, and our reputation hit the headlines – we had to get off-world. Thinking she was dead I wanted to get as far away from that place as possible anyway. Other side of the damned galaxy if I could have had it my way, but the Alliance would have been out to get us following the police reports so we went into the Terminus Systems. I never knew I left her Shepard! Maybe I still would've had to leave to save my own skin back then but damn it when I found out she survived all I wanted to do was..." He looked as though he'd just gone weak at the knees as he whispered: "...to find her."

He reached out an arm and braced himself against the fish tank as he smacked his head into it. "So I went looking for her." He continued; his voice much, much quieter now. Shepard slowly rose to her feet and drew several steps closer so as to be sure she could hear, watching him closely as he scoffed: "I _found_ her alright." He snuffled: "I found her _grave..._ " He paused to let go a deep, agonising sigh and his voice shook as he spoke. Shepard's heart clenched as she wondered if he was crying.

"She'd married someone ten years after I left. Died of some beggar's disease round about the time you n' me went to Zorya." He choked a breath and yelled: "Zorya!" He punched the fish tank with a loud thud. Shepard was suddenly glad that the glass of her fish tank was made of the same strength material as hull windows. "While _I_ was hunting Vido down, _she_ lay dying in some sodding hospital! I don't know if I could have been that man she married. But I..." Shepard thought she heard the hitched breath of a sob, "Maybe I... Maybe I could have been a different _man_. But I'll never know the man I could've been. I missed that chance. It was stolen from me."

Shepard found her own eyes were watering – for she could hear the sorrow in his voice so clearly it hurt. Suddenly it all made sense: the bad attitude, the spitefulness, the anger he seemed to wear like a protective cocoon, and lately his loss of control over his drinking. She also found that she couldn't speak after such a horrible story meanwhile her brain was doing somersaults. Zaeed was such an arrogant, confident son-of-a-bitch. She had really wanted to punch him on several occasions. Had in fact done just that, once. But... He was also a survivor, and she's had the impression that when it came down to it, _nothing_ could break his will to survive. She never imagined he could look like this. There was something heart-wrenching and humbling about seeing someone like Zaeed Massani fall to pieces in such a way.

"Fucking _hell_..." Zaeed's fist slammed against the glass again, making Shepard's heart skip a beat. "I need a goddamn drink..."

She was almost afraid to see what she would find if he turned his face towards her, but she wanted to ease the pain. She'd felt so helpless trying to reassure Tali when they'd found her father dead. She really wasn't good at this, not really. She reached out her hand and laid it on his arm.

"I don't want your pity!" He yelled at her unexpectedly, grabbing hold of her by the neck as he threw her up against the glass of the fish tank. But the look on her face must have caught him by surprise. Hell _she_ was surprised he'd caught her that much off-guard – she hadn't offered the slightest resistance as he'd done it either. She simply remained still, somewhat shocked... and slowly raised her hand to rest on his forearm, gently. She hurt for the absence of words, and she couldn't think of any to fill the void. All she could think of to say in response was...

"What _do_ you want?" She asked quietly, her pulse ringing in her ears – she knew her face was flushed with heat as she frowned at him, although she had no idea why. She stared at him soberly, failing to register the sorrow she was reflecting back at him in her own expression.

"I..." He started, loosening the tight grip he'd had on her. Searching her eyes with sadness in his own, he swallowed: "I don't know..." then shook his head dismissively to clear the insanity washing over him. His grip around her throat tightened again and he brought his face right up close to hers as he scowled; the world just seemed to have turned upside down and experience had taught him that meant nothing good. "What game are you playing, Shepard?" he asked – deep and serious; like soft thunder as he squinted his eyes at her.

"No games." Her voice was low and serious too but it was calm, gentle, and above all sincere. She sucked her own tongue and swallowed. Somewhere the undercurrents of her mind were whispering to her about questionable double meanings and asking her where she was going with this. She honestly didn't know. Zaeed likewise took a moment to think about that, stunned by the response and thoroughly confused as to what it meant.

His head drew a little closer to hers, abruptly stopped, then again a little more when she didn't look away. Her body was tingling all over. _What am I feeling?_ Closer still and the tip of her nose brushed his. She jerked her head back a little to bring her lips closer to his. Her eyes gave up trying to focus on his at such short distance. Half-lidding her eyes, she took a sharp breath in and held it. He released his grip on her throat and as his thumb crossed back over he ever so gently brushed the base of her jaw, tracing back a little further to just under her ear... He did this ever so slowly, like he was afraid to touch her.

 _Oh god... I can't breathe..._

Then he cleared his throat and swallowed as he released her entirely. He stumbled backwards: "I'm sorry... Shepard..." He whispered huskily as he slowly shook his head, "I didn't meant to..." Teary eyes – wide in shock under heavily furrowed brows – refused to meet hers. He stuttered. "I... I should go." And with that, he practically ran for the door.

Shepard herself was too stunned to move; her own shock too deep-rooted in her larynx for it to work. _It's alright Zaeed... You didn't do anything wrong..._ She thought to say through stubbornly motionless lips as the door shut behind him. She wanted to go after him, but her conscience was presently giving her a stern telling off and warning her not to. _Leave him be. The poor guy is messed up enough without you messing him up even more – what the hell were you even thinking? Do you even know?!_

She scolded herself when she eventually caught her breath, moving away from where she had been pinned to the fish tank to hover over the sofa. Turning, she thudded into it and dropped her head into her hands. "What the hell am I _doing_?" she growled into her palms. She heard the telltale sound that gave away EDI once again being confused as to whether or not Shepard was talking to her, or herself. When Shepard did not respond to the silence, the telltale sound chimed again as EDI had decided she was not being summoned. Poor EDI. _She tries so hard._

"You're learning EDI." She felt the need to grace the AI with at least an acknowledgement of that. It was a way to pull herself back into the frame of mind she was used to living in – mind on business. The noise of EDI connecting to the com channel chimed again:

"Thank you Shepard. Is there anything else?"

"No that will be all EDI. Just wanted to let you know you're making progress." _Mind on other things, and quickly._ She told herself.

"It _is_ difficult to know for certain whether you are addressing me or yourself, but your latest suggestion appears to be working well. There have been no oversights of questions you have directed towards me that have gone unanswered, and 98% of responses to vocal enquiries since implementing your last advice have been deemed appropriate."

 _Then again, all I'm going to do is get frustrated if I talk to EDI while I've got this at the back of my mind..._

"Certainly an improvement EDI." _Now all we have to do is either stop me from knowing when you've been listening but refraining from interrupting, or get you to stop picking up when I'm talking to myself at all... Did you hear what just went on? Did you pick that up? No I can't ask that. Truth is I don't want to know anyway..._

"Do you have any more suggestions on how I can further improve my personal relations with you and other crew members on this matter?"

 _And I also need to teach you when to drop a subject..._

"None that I can think of right _now_ EDI. That'll be all for now." She tried not to sound too forceful in that last sentence, but EDI did, perhaps, correctly assess the tone. Thinking about it, part of her wanted to throttle the AI for not telling her what Zaeed had been doing in the run up to that day's leave she'd given the crew. But of course EDI may not have understood at the time the emotional significance or relationship of the things he asked her to do back then to his present behaviour. Even if she had, Shepard knew that EDI was trying to learn and understand the human, Turian, Quarian, Asari and Drell need for privacy. _If nothing else, she could well have been following_ _my_ _directive to do just that – respect his privacy – when she omitted to tell me about Zaeed's investigations._

"Logging you out, Shepard." She almost sounded remorseful... _Damn it when did I start worrying about hurting the_ _ship_ _'s feelings, on top of everything else?!_

With EDI gone Shepard thought about the event that had just transpired and tried to sort through her thoughts on the matter. The simplest thing was to start with the painfully obvious: admitting that she was attracted to the man. That took a moment's thought and a great deal of reluctance to do but she knew she'd have shoved him off her the moment he got too close if it wasn't true. She reeled from the continuous replay of that almost-kiss, as if it were stuck on loop – clearly her mind liked the notion enough to become fixated with it. 'Why' she would be attracted to him, however, and why now when it had never happened before, was another question entirely.

 _Well when did it happen, and what happened running up to it?_

She skimmed her memory, but she was pretty certain that everything pretty much only started with today and this particular meeting. If she'd ever found him physically attractive before then it was _far_ too heartily outweighed and suppressed by her loathing for his character. Then she realised that therein lay the answer to her question:

 _That's what's changed, isn't it?_ _I've seen a different side to him._

She sighed and rubbed her temples: _I can't just dismiss him as that 'asshole bounty hunter Cerberus had me pick up who I dumped in the port cargo hold' anymore._.. _There's obviously more to him than that. More to him than all that bluster, that's what my instincts are telling me now, isn't it?_ Then with another realisation, she facepalmed and added this as yet one more example of why being as obsessive a problem-solver as she was, had its drawbacks. _He's like a bloody matryoshka doll and_ _I_ _want to find the Zaeed at the core of it all don't I?_ Rubbing her eyes with frustration, she stared at the coffee table and scolded herself:

Y _ou sure do know how to land yourself in trouble, don't you?_


	3. Chapter 3 - It's a Deal

~ Finding The Heart ~

It's A Deal

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the intellectual property of Bioware, not mine.

WARNING: Rated for MA for future chapters. 16yrs+ readers only please. Foul language, adult concepts.

Author note: I've purposefully tried not to describe Shepard too much, after all, fans of Mass Effect will each have their own versions of Shepard, so I leave those parts up to your imagination.

* * *

Shepard wasn't sure if it was fear, courage or simple presence of mind (something she must have lacked the day before when she allowed him to almost kiss her) that had, thus far, prevented her from chasing after Zaeed when he scurried out of her quarters yesterday evening. Regardless her subconscious had kept her tossing and turning all night. Shepard had _not_ slept well. Thoughts of his story had melded into dream, dreams of her being a member of Zaeed's gang hunting down the Demon Maws or her being Vido and consoling him with hugs that almost turned into kisses. That last one was especially dumb, but laughable in that facepalm-worthy way that her brain had of actually _that bad_ at tact, as to throw herself straight at a man she wanted when he was still recovering from the loss of the woman he loved.

Images of his pained expressions and various replays with alternative endings to their conversation had also dogged her mind all night. Of course in _one_ of her dreams he actually  had kissed her. She sighed and hugged her coffee, breathing in the steam as if it were the oxygen upon which she depended. _Damn I just can't stop thinking about it – that kiss that almost was._ She shook her head with disappointment. _This is ridiculous._ Then with a sigh: _Although I suppose on a lighter note it beats involuntary images popping into my head of the Prothean's untimely end..._

That said, truth be told, as nightmarish as they were; those Prothean visions were actually a source of mild comfort to Shepard... at least since her resurrection. She figured they were possibly just about the only things in her head that nobody could or would dare try to mess with. The only person who ever even got close to understanding them besides herself was Liara, and that was only because she'd spent more than a hundred years studying the Protheans and happened to belong to a species partially capable of telepathy. For all her _other_ thoughts and feelings, Shepard now reserved a little doubt.

Whilst Miranda seemed honest in her protests that her brain had not been tampered with when Cerberus brought her back, Shepard – partly _because_ of those Prothean visions and what they portrayed – now had the failsafe assumption that she could not entirely trust or believe what Miranda (or anyone) said was true. Reaper-sleepers could be anyone, anywhere, and indoctrination could be subtle enough for a person experiencing it not to notice it when their motivations and beliefs (and therefore their actions) had been realigned. She also had to assume that she wasn't immune to that herself. It was her biggest fear: that chasing Saren (and during more recent events) she'd been exposed to Reaper artefacts that might have done just that... _to her._

Dying and being brought back (by Cerberus no less!) just made that fear more real. Nonetheless she reminded herself that it was the Illusive Man that had given her a ship, a crew, and bade her take on and take out the Collectors. He was well-aware of the Reaper threat, even if his methods were questionable at times, and he wouldn't be stupid enough to use their technology. _Would he? Then again he_ _did_ _beg me not to destroy the Collector Base..._ However at that thought she stopped herself solidly and refused to think any further on the matter. Shepard knew she could drive herself nuts with paranoia if she thought about these things for too long. So, as she had grown accustomed to doing: she shelved her qualms about her own 'realness' and 'authenticity', _and_ the possible grand machinations of the Reapers, then instead tried to focus on the task at hand.

She'd gone over Chakwas' report on Zaeed again this morning, just to refresh her memory, mainly because if she was going to be stuck thinking about him; she might as well try to direct it towards something useful. _Kicking addiction to alcohol is not just a matter of chemistry_ , she read, _the addiction is also mental_. Pills and injections could kill his physical need for it easily enough and he'd had those, but the emotional motive behind it was what really needed to be solved. _And me complicating matters with my sudden bad-boy crush is surely not helping matters._ She was willing to dismiss the whole thing as such and call herself an idiot and a fool, because of all the people a sane person might want to date, she was sure he was not one of them.

Unfortunately, she also knew that she should talk to him. She had to sort out her own thoughts, come to a decision, and then explain herself to him so that the poor man would be able to figure out where _he_ stood either way. Was it sensible to have a relationship with _anyone_ given what she was up against right now? Absolutely not. But she _also_ knew that this was not a problem that was going to go away: when Shepard knew her feelings on something, she acted – right or wrong (albeit usually right). It was who she was... And she knew that if she let this fester, it would do far more harm.

So... She confidently paced out of her cabin, waited calmly for the lift to reach the lower decks and strolled down the corridor to the Starboard Cargo Hold... Then found she couldn't find the nerve to request entry once she got there. She waited for a moment, staring at the ceiling whilst trying to clear her thoughts and get over her apparent embarrassment, to gain at least _some_ clue as to how she was going to attempt to broach the topic when...

"Shepard do you require assistance?" – EDI chimed.

"EDI if I had to take you onto a battlefield I'd have shot you by now for giving away my position."

"Apologies Shepard, however I do not fully understand the context of your displeasure –"

" _Never mind_ EDI, don't worry about it – just open the damn door." Forget request for entry. Regardless whether he wanted to see her or not, she still needed to talk to him, and that was that. The door sprang into life and EDI said no more. At first Shepard was confused – Zaeed was not in his usual corner, or any corner she could view from the doorway. _Where is he?_ "Zaeed..?" _He's probably asleep or something isn't he? I'm going to walk in on him naked, that's what. Because_ _that_ _would improve the situation... [Mental face-palm]_

"Here, Shepard." She tracked the origin of the gruff voice – he didn't sound at all alarmed by her presence – and found him as she rounded the corner to the trash compressor. He was on the floor, slouched against the wall with his knees up, staring at the deck plates. He was without the top half of his armour – he had only a stained, white, sleeveless vest and a gold chain about his neck to insulate against the cold of the room. _That_ worried her instantly, as this was probably the first time she'd _ever_ seen him anything less than battle-ready with a weapon in hand. Silver lining to every cloud: her brain pointed out that she now knew that the answer to the question of whether or not both his arms were tattooed, and the answer was 'yes, they are'. _Thank you, brain, for that pointless observation._ She dragged her eyes back into observing more useful things, like the way in which he was slouching and what his body language was telling her about his condition.

"Zaeed..? Are you alright?" She ventured.

"Thought you were gonna space me..." His head sagged and swung a little from side to side as he spoke. _Is he_ _drunk_ _..?_ She sighed: _Not again..._ _No I think he's actually_ _worse_ _this time._ She then wondered – noting at least one empty bottle lying on the floor near him – how the hell in this state he'd recognised the door had opened, let alone who'd walked into the room. _Well... it wasn't likely to be anyone else, was it?_ He was nursing a shot glass while a mostly-full bottle of whiskey stood between his knees. _Humph. Space him, indeed._ But did he make that comment because he was drinking again, or because of what had nearly happened in her quarters the evening before? _Is this... shame I'm seeing?_

Her mind reeled with the guilt that she may have potentially helped kick him back into this. Yet she didn't think he'd be the type of person to apologise for inappropriate behaviour on any other day. She wouldn't have put him above sexual harassment and she reminded herself he'd already crossed that line very recently albeit relatively mildly, unsuccessfully, whilst thoroughly hammered. It was odd then, that in retrospect he _had_ seemed almost painfully ashamed when he'd made that quick exit from her quarters.

Shepard shook her head and sighed loudly. Likely she wasn't going to be able to have a sensible conversation with him now, at any rate. _Mental addiction indeed. Hiding in that bottle..._ She shrugged and folded her arms, hugging her elbows as she shifted her weight from foot to foot uncomfortably. She actually felt – for the first time since seeing Ashley on Horizon – lost for words. _What am I supposed to do..?_ Then it occurred to her that there was little she _could_ do, except try. _OK. Fine. I'll try. I'll try a new tactic and see what happens._

Walking over to him she picked up the bottle, extended her hand and silently asked for the shot glass. He gave it up without hesitation, but was most definitely avoiding eye contact. _Don't know what he expects I'm going to do with it, smash it over his head maybe? I guess he thinks I'm mad with him._ The thought did occur to her that such an act would sooth the temper she'd walked in with the day before... but all of that disgust and anger had dissolved away... once she discovered there was a truly depressing reason for it.

She looked at the bottled with a raised eyebrow – scarcely believing the label which was one of the finest Earth brands, distilled nowhere other than humanity's homeworld itself _and_ from the small island that birthed his quirky accent, no less. "Jeez you really know how to get the good stuff don't you Zaeed...?" She murmured, eying the date.

"Got cash to spare." He shrugged. Still refusing to look at her, not even her boots, only the floor.

She mused over the situation awhile, absent-mindedly staring at the shot glass. She noticed it had a name and a date etched into it: Schott AG 1884 – _Damn this thing is_ _ancient_ _._ She stared at the little object with no small amount of awe – this was a real piece of history she was holding. _Where did he even_ _find_ _this?! And how much did it cost? Never mind... I don't want to know..._ She was beginning to understand that this man had a fascination for history, a fondness for antiques and that he had far, far too much money to spare and spend on both. Still somewhat in disbelief, she poured herself a shot in the empty silence.

Shepard did not, as a rule, drink. She used to, a long time ago, until she witnessed somebody become dependent upon it. Only Garrus and Tali (and Ashley) really knew that Shepard would, on occasion, have a drink – albeit at times of celebration which as of late, hadn't been that often. It was a rare thing and she did it only ever in the presence of people she trusted with her own safety, which technically hadn't been the case for several years if you count the two for which she was not amongst the living.

The sound of her pouring herself a shot had at least caught his attention. He gave her a brief, worried and confused look as she slid down the side of the trash compressor to sit opposite him. She dumped the bottle to her left and he quickly ducked down again. She nursed the drink awhile before downing it in one gulp whereupon the burning liquid hit her throat and made her eyes water. She coughed. _I'd forgotten that sensation._

"Best damned stuff in the galaxy, that is." He nodded towards the bottle with another furtive look. Perhaps she had confused him enough for him to relax a little.

"I'll bet." Shepard coughed again as the warmth hit her empty stomach and she began to feel a little woozy. "But it's still going out the airlock." She caught the fleeting look of dismay that came from Zaeed, but he said nothing against it. _Maybe he misheard me and thinks I'm putting_ _him_ _out the airlock..._ That made her smile with dark humour and she tried not to laugh.

"Thought it was _me_ you were going to toss out of an airlock." He said, gruffly. So he  had heard her correctly, then. Another fleeting glance in her direction, quickly ducked away. " _Especially_ after..." He paused, silent for a moment except for laboured breathing. "Well..." He tried again, still couldn't find the words. Finally he shook his head and his voice took on an angry tone: "Look Shepard I don't know what came over me, I mean forget _drinking..._ " Another pause as he pulled one hand down over his face. "...Nyaghh, what's the bloody point?" He slammed his head back against the wall, eyes scrunched shut. _He doesn't know does he? Hasn't realised he only got that close because I didn't stop him..._

Maybe the alcohol temporarily muzzled her senses and clarity of thought. Maybe she was fed up of thinking of herself as living on borrowed time and distrusting her every thought and feeling. Maybe she was just sick and tired of the loneliness she'd cloaked herself in for sake of that – to protect others or to protect herself: she wasn't really sure which was the real reason anymore. Maybe she was exhausted from constantly watching what she did and what she said because of who she'd woken up working for. Maybe coming back from the dead left you feeling like you had to justify _every_ _moment_ you were alive, because that was the only way to face the people who thought they'd lost you. Hell maybe it was just the fact that she was never good at _talking_ about this kind of stuff.

Or...

Maybe it was because this was first time in what seemed a very, _very_ long time that she was faced with someone who was  not taking her for granted.

Whatever the reason, Shepard shrugged her shoulders, let out a long sigh, then stretched to place the shot glass carefully on the floor next to the bottle. In one swift movement from there she pushed off the trash compressor behind her and fell forwards. Her knees hit the deck between his with a loud thud and he jerked his head up to see what the hell she was doing. As he did so, her hands found either side of his cold face... and she planted her lips onto his.

Gently at first she pulled at his lips with her own, then she began pressing her tongue to them each time in soft, kitten kisses. He hesitated at first, stunned by what was apparently really happening, then he began to return her attentions. That snowballed quickly. He opened his mouth to her and feverishly slid his own tongue along hers. Cold hands found hers where they lay on either side of his face, then found her cheeks; squeezing them as he kissed up to her desperately with furious passion, breathing hard through his nose. She kneeled right up, pressing her body against his. She felt the cold shape of his flesh through her uniform as surely as he could feel the heat of hers. He grabbed at her behind and pulled her towards him, fumbling as he tried to scramble his way back up the wall, trying to – trying to do _something..._ when he knocked her off balance and brought them both down, hard, with an almighty thud as they hit the floor.

Shepard, sent sprawling, smacked the mostly-full whiskey bottle with a flailing arm when she tried to brace herself against the fall. It went spinning across the deck plates, emptying its contents and clinking off surrounding objects. Shepard flinched when the sharp sound of glass hitting glass reverberated through the air, realising then that the bottle must have caught the shot glass as it fell and spun outwards or vice versa. She flinched again when she added to that the age of that particular item of Zaeed's belongings. Zaeed meanwhile scrambled to lift himself off of her, having momentarily landed face-first into her breasts and between her legs.

 _Oh crap I hope I haven't broken it_...

Shepard strained, frantically trying spot the glass and its condition. Then she suddenly realised that... everything... had stopped. Zaeed froze. She froze. Hands either side of her chest on all fours he stayed like that, rock still and _staring_ at her. The gold chain around his neck hung motionless above her as she met his gaze. More than anything he just looked shocked: genuinely lost for words. She wanted to laugh so hard at that (his face was a picture) and at the absurdity of it all, but she managed to (just about) merely smirk instead. She'd never seen such an expression on his face and with no small amount of mischievousness in the gleeful realisation that it was _she_ who had put it there, bit her lip coyly and smiled. _Oh... I enjoyed_ _that_ _. More than I've enjoyed anything in longer than I can remember..._

"Shepard..." He began frowning, but couldn't seem to find any other words to follow that.

"I'm not hurt if that's what you're wondering." She raised an eyebrow as she propped herself up on both elbows and tried to look serious as her heartbeat settled back to a sensible pace. Part of her was finding this all rather hilarious, and the humour was hard to contain. The rest of her was convinced she was going stark raving mad. _Yup._ _Crazy. Definitely crazy_.

"What – on God's green Earth – was _that_..?" He blinked and frowned, eyes wide. The confused look on his face made it impossible to contain the grin she'd been holding back.

"Umn... Therapy?" She ventured, and giggled as she did so. That raised his eyebrows and made him look even funnier. The whole situation was insane and yet somehow utterly comical at the same time. _I am – I'm going completely crazy. I should call Chakwas: I need to be put on medication..._

"You..." He began frowning slightly, the fuzziness from the alcohol he'd been imbibing evaporating in a flood of adrenaline. He pushed away from the floor and stood straight up and amazingly; didn't wobble. Shepard sighed then, getting herself up to face him likewise. Suddenly it was all-serious again, and a hell of a lot less fun. _This isn't the Academy._ _He's not a toy, this isn't a game, and the poor man's got enough on his plate without you throwing yourself at him, idiot._

She stood with her arms behind her back and tried to recover her professionalism as she spoke: "I'm sorry if I overstepped the mark." She respectfully bowed her head with no small amount of guilt as she then tried to meet his eyes. Still her voice sounded sheepishly weak, and she had great trouble not looking away. She was _sure_ her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, every inch of her skin felt like it was radiating heat. It took a lot to swallow that and look again, straight into his eyes.

"No..." He spoke to her softly at first, half-lidding his eyes with a slight shake of his head – still shaken but not angry, at least. His face wore a perplexed expression. "When a woman throws herself at me like – like I _think_ you just did – I usually consider myself a lucky man. _Rare_ for it to be over _my_ mark. But..." He paused and tilted his head, "...why'd you do it?" His face ticked as he asked.

"Surprised?" She let go an agitated breath, "You're not the only one." Shepard put her hands on her hip as she stared down at the floor and shook her head. _Yup. I am_ _definitely_ _going crazy. Alternatively: this is exactly why I do_ _not_ _get involved with romance._

"Shepard if you want somebody to screw your brains out there's a whole host of men and a few women through those doors I'm sure would be happy to oblige." He thumbed over his shoulder in the direction of the cargo bay door. "Blokes who haven't had half their face blown off n' aren't nine years your elder, for starters."

Shepard raised her face and stared at him blankly. She knew he was right, none of it made any sense but even though she had no excuses to fall back on, she knew she was _here_ , she knew he'd caught her attention now and she knew for damned certain: it wasn't just going to go away.

Zaeed frowned at her with just a touch of suspicion when she said nothing. "Shepard What the hell do _you_ want with an aging bounty hunter who's past his prime like ol' muggins 'ere?" He pointed to himself with a shrug then crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. Shepard caught herself studying his tattoos, but quickly pulled her eyes up to focus on what he was saying: "If you were a whore I'd probably take the offer and pay you for it – that's a fair exchange in my eyes: money for a service. But you're no whore, Shepard. You don't seem the type to want for money either – not when the Illusive Man himself has failed to buy your allegiance." He shook his head. "So what's your game?"

Shepard sighed. _Whores indeed._ The man had an interesting slant on prostitution – she still couldn't quite believe this was someone she actually wanted anything to do with. Unfortunately his suspicion of her had made him all the more interesting to her – Shepard wasn't used to having to _prove_ her intentions were good ones. _Although clearly I need the practice..._ She thought, recalling how Ashley had been a light year from the level of trust Shepard _thought_ she'd earned from the woman when she met her on Horizon. Still, being doubted was novel in this instance at least.

"Is it _really_ that hard to think I could be interested in _you_ _?"_

"What – you tellin' me you _like_ my ugly mug? Hell yeah! Why didn't I notice  that before?" He jested, with one eyebrow raised to emphasis the sarcasm. _He_ _does_ _do sarcasm so much better than I do. He also has a point._

Shepard outright laughed: "Zaeed, even _I_ don't really understand what changed." She smiled bashfully as she tried for an unusually direct approach: "Maybe it was just that I've never seen the side of you I've seen these past few days." She shrugged and looked him in the eye: "You're clearly not the man I thought you were, and I guess I must have seen something about you I like."

"Shepard you are absolutely _the_ strangest woman I've ever met. I cause you a shed load of grief, you condemn my drinking habits and threaten to space me if I don't sort myself out, then the very next day you _share_ a  drink with me then _kiss_ me so hard a teenage boy would've prematurely ejaculated before he even got his goddamned trousers off..."

Shepard gagged at that last part and felt yet more blood rush to her cheeks. She clasped her mouth, giving away her surprise. Zaeed chuckled as he watched her do this, as if he hadn't expected for her to be embarrassed over that. "Damn near blew _my_ head off..." – He added for good measure, no doubt with double meaning intended and got another embarrassed smile from her. An awkward silence followed, until finally Shepard tried to change the subject.

"You know, you never answered my question last night." She looked him straight in the eyes, sober.

"Huh?" He shrugged his shoulders. "...'Bout what?"

She dipped her head a little as she held eye contact: "I asked you: what do you want?"

Zaeed took a deep breath, "I uh... Think I need a bit of time to figure that out. Right now all I can think about is that kiss..." He half-laughed, rubbing the back of his neck as he sighed an exhaustive sigh. "Look... Shepard – for crying out loud I'm old enough to be your father –"

Shepard quickly cut him off: "No you're not. That's actually physically impossible - there's only nine years difference. Besides my father was forty when I was born, so as I'm thirty two this year that makes you a good thirty one years too _young_ to be my dad. He'd be seventy two this year – you're only forty one."

"Shepard..." He shook his head and scowled at her warped sense of logic on the matter. In the back of his head there was also a dull memory about a lie he'd gotten so used to reciting as truth he sometimes forgot it was a lie... The truth being that the records she'd have used to guess his age were about seven years out, thanks to a very large sum of money and the worry he once had that he might otherwise be considered too old to do the work he lived by. Not that he thought seven years would change her mind, given that last statement.

"I want to know what you want." She was stubborn to a fault. She stared at him expectantly - a _nd I'm not giving an inch.  
_

Zaeed huffed and shook his head. "..." He opened his mouth then clamped it shut. A certain degree of frailty touched his expression. He tried again to speak: "...If... Say I wanted this to go somewhere... If I wanted... you –" He shook his head and smirked as if saying those words somehow tickled, "– and after that kiss I'll be _damned_ if I'm not  thinkin' about it... How would we even go about it?"

Shepard considered the question, sucked her cheeks and then replied: "I'll cut you a deal. One: No more hiding in a bottle when you don't want to deal with something."

"Fair." He nodded, emotionless.

She raised two fingers: "Two: _That_ bottle goes out the airlock in your place."

Zaeed sighed as he looked down at the bottle and its spilled contents then back to Shepard, but: "OK." he nodded, and didn't even flinch.

Three fingers: "And three: The rest of whatever else you have stashed away – here, off-ship and due in delivery – gets given to Gardener to share with the crew. Hopefully that might make up for you being such an ass to everyone lately and salve some feelings."

He growled a sigh. "Remind me again why I'm doing this?" He _wasn't_ – as some might think – questioning the end of his addiction, she was damned sure of that. _He wants another kiss, that's what... Cheeky bastard._ She could see it in his face.

Shepard raised a brow but maintained a straight face. "Do all that and instead of being spaced before lunch today, you can drop by my quarters when you're through arranging it all."

"Right." He smirked at that with a glint in his eye. He wasn't about to ask what he'd get when he got there. She could tell he was more content to use his imagination about _that_.

Shepard momentarily lost her concentration and her cool in her surprise as she realised he'd agreed to all of that without so much as a hint of dispute or an _"I'll have to think about this."_ His eyes told her what he wanted as his reward, making her nearly stutter as she added, trying to sound indifferent:

"You can keep the shot glass; I checked the date on it."

"Cheers." He stretched his jaw to one side and back. "Would be a pity to throw away an antique like that." Then his eyes shot her a deep, cold stare: _But I'd do it if you asked –_ that stare seemed to say. The seriousness his eyes betrayed in that moment was mesmerising. She did her best to resist it.

"I'll give you until 20:00 h on Friday – you've got that long to get everything else sorted."

"Should be doable." He nodded and shrugged.

"So. Do we have a deal?" She raised her chin and an eyebrow.

"We have a deal." He nodded. Shepard nodded then turned to leave.

Zaeed raised an arm in her direction, not intending to touch, only to block her path. "Shepard..." He started, his face suddenly carrying a very solemn look. He sighed, looking down at the floor before raising his eyes to hers with a piercing stare. "I'm too old for games."

Shepard froze, then nodded calmly: "Agreed." Her instincts were clear enough. Then, adding with more vulnerability than she intended to let slip, she admitted more than she wanted to: "Me too." She swallowed hard.

His expression relaxed just enough for him to smile a little. "I guess I'll drop by your quarters once everything's sorted, then." It was a special smile – one she'd never seen before. It had just a flavouring of hope to it, and instantly she knew that she wanted it to be _her_ smile... The one that only she got to see... She filed that image and accompanying thought away somewhere to be reviewed later. She nodded. Then, with a smile of her own in return... One probably as equally unseen by anyone else before him as the one _he'd_ given _her..._ He dropped the obstructing arm and she left.


	4. Chapter 4 - Handle With Care

~ Finding The Heart ~

Handle With Care

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the intellectual property of Bioware, not mine.

WARNING: Rated for MA for future chapters. 16yrs+ readers only please. Foul language, adult concepts.

Author note: I've purposefully tried not to describe Shepard too much, after all, fans of Mass Effect will each have their own versions of Shepard, so I leave those parts up to your imagination.

* * *

At 12:08 h an internal report landed in Shepard's inbox. Zaeed had been back to see Dr Chakwas again, so the doctor's report read. Chakwas stated that she had _of course_ given him a stern telling off for having slipped up on his promise to the Commander, but also that she'd given him the meds (again), and now he was back to where he started the day before. The good doctor commented that he had been _"irritatingly cheerful"_ about the whole episode and that she was genuinely wondering if the man needed psychiatric help.

Shepard filed the report and tried not to grin when she presumed to know why the mercenary had indeed been so cheerful. She _did_ return a note to the doctor to rest her concerns, advising her that she had again talked with Zaeed this morning, that they were working on the real causes of his problem, and that hopefully his newfound enthusiasm following that talk would be put to good use. She tried not to grin at what she presumed that 'good use' might be, either.

At 14:13 h Joker informed her that Zaeed had requested a stop at Earth (of all places!). _"Apparently he's got some stuff to pick up and has to go there personally to sign the documentation or something... says it's on your orders. I thought I should run it by you first."_ Shepard quickly worked out what it was and likely why therefore it was Earth.

"That was faster than I expected. Yes it's on my orders. When is he requesting the stop?"

" _He's not sure yet commander – says he's yet to arrange the exact details, but it will be some time Friday, he says."_

"OK. Well just make sure you contact the Reapers and tell them they'll have to wait until Monday if they're going to ruin my day."

" _Hahahaha... That's real funny Commander."_

"I'm considering the idea of begging some shore leave off the Illusive Man. We've been running tight for months and I think the crew deserves a break if at all possible. Earth's not the best place to loose Cerberus operatives off of their leashes I'm sure, but there's got to be some safe havens he knows that these people can go to."

" _...Wow - what's put_ _you_ _in such a good mood..?"_

"Oh nothing in particular... Just the thought of coming down there and breaking your legs..."

" _OK, OK I'll quit asking."_

"Just don't tell Miranda yet – I'm not set on the idea yet and I don't want to make her blow a fuse and come storming up here to tell me what's what without a real reason."

" _Really Commander? I thought making Miranda blow a fuse for no apparent reason was your favourite pastime."_

"Seriously. One-on-one sparring. You and me."

" _My lips are sealed."_

"Out."

Shepard mused over the idea of shore leave. Looking at the pile of reports she needed to fill in however, Shepard wondered if shore leave for _her_ would only come the next time she died. If electronic documents could 'pile', she was sure her pile would be as high as the ceiling. She scowled at the size of her 'to-do' list and figured it was payback for two years off-duty, albeit unconscious – the galaxy did not understand such things, she assumed. She knuckled down and worked on them, looking over the schematics of the dead reaper recovered from the Cerberus research team (the ones that went mad from indoctrination effects), and the first speculative suggestions for the design of a Collector-specific bioweapon from Dr Solus... That sent shivers down her spine.

 _I'm not sure which is worse, thinking that I already wiped out their entire race and maybe I could have saved them somehow, or the idea that I_ _didn't_ _and I get to live with the consequences of personally pressing a button to release a bioweapon that_ _will_ _..._

There were many other projects and reports to attend to, and the hours ticked away fast enough with so much work to do. _How_ _does_ _Miranda cope with so much report-filling? Speak of the devil:_ At 16:55 h, Miranda called.

"... _Shepard? What the bloody hell did you_ _say_ _to Zaeed?_ " For a moment Shepard began to worry, but Miranda quickly added: " _He just dropped by to inform me that his entire stash of whiskey and any forthcoming deliveries of alcohol are now in the hands of Gardner on your orders. He also_ _apologised_ _."_ \- So spoke the bodiless Australian accent of a woman genuinely unnerved.

"Honestly Miranda, I'm surprised my talking to him had such an impact. What can I say? You should try diplomacy sometimes – _sometimes_ it pays off."

" _Shepard why do you insist -"_ She could just imagine Miranda rolling her eyes to that.

"Miranda why do _you_ insist on taking that tone with me?" She was rather glad that she had disallowed video to be linked with her private quarter's communications system. That way Miranda couldn't see that she was grinning like an idiot during this conversation.

" _Shepard regardless what you may think of my mediation abilities I do not consider attempting to persuade EDI to allow access to my quarter's security feed so that Zaeed could view my backside in the shower a simple matter of diplomacy -_ "

Shepard tried not to laugh at that - it wasn't funny – but the way Miranda put it made it hard not to see the comical side. Especially given how epically Zaeed had failed in the attempt, due to being so thoroughly hammered at the time as to ask EDI for assistance. After that retort Shepard just couldn't resist poking a little fun:

"Well I can't say I blame the man for trying. You've said it yourself in as many words: you _do_ have the body of a goddess."

"... _Shepard?!"_

"Miranda you need to loosen up, spend some _time_ with the crew, drink a little of that whiskey and let your hair down. You're smart, you're gorgeous, and you should flaunt it for fun – not just for games." _Offer one hand, arm the other –_ Shepard knew Miranda would instantly know what she meant by 'games'.

" _I beg your pardon Commander but-"_

"No more 'buts'. No more excuses Miranda. So you know not to trust anyone with important matters without an interrogation first," Shepard's voice dropped into a serious tone, and knew Miranda would know what she was talking about in _that_ respect, too. "I understand that and I  respect your reasons." Then once again cheerful: "But that doesn't mean you can't let your hair down." Shepard had already worked out just how much 'distance' Miranda kept from other people; it wasn't healthy but it _was_ understandable. Far _too_ understandable. _But I'll be damned if I let you stay that way and work yourself into a life of paranoid loneliness._

" _Commander I – I really don't think..._ "

"Don't worry... I'll make _sure_ Zaeed doesn't bother you. I threatened to space him if he didn't clean up his act, and I'll  skin him if he tries to get newsfeed on your ass again." She chimed merrily, then lowered her voice to its sternest severity so Miranda _would_ understand she wasn't actually joking about that last part: "You have my  word on that."

Shepard might cheerfully yank Miranda's chain all day long, but she was not blind to the fact that Miranda probably had to cope with more unwanted sexual solicitations than anybody else she'd ever met, and Shepard was a stickler for being 'champion of the underdog'. _Still remember the day I took that Volus and police officer to task for the way they were treating that Quarian like she was default criminal._.. She wasn't about to lower her standards – not even for a member of her crew. She'd have torn Zaeed limb from limb if he hadn't been pyjack-on-pomegranate-juice drunk at the time; so inebriated as to be  dumb enough to ask EDI for her _help_. Whatever feelings she might be developing towards the man, those would quickly evaporate if she knew he was capable of pulling a stunt like that  sober, or when he was anything less than off-his-face drunk.

Shepard guarded people wherever and whenever she had cause to believe they were vulnerable, or more vulnerable than other people who might take advantage of that difference in power. She protected the underdog even when as now; the person she identified as the 'underdog' might take insult at her meddling on their behalf. Truthfully it was unlikely that Miranda ever perceived Zaeed as a threat. Next to Shepard, Miranda was the strongest, fastest human on the ship – maybe in the galaxy – and with no implants required, thanks to her carefully tailored genetics. The way Miranda probably saw it; what Zaeed had done was merely an insulting irritation.

 _That kind of professional detachment comes at a price, though._ Shepard had long recognised how it had kept Miranda from forming relationships with anyone who might one day have her back. _Jacob might have had your back once upon a time, but I get the distinct impression you burned_ _that_ _bridge to ashes._ If she kept it up, Shepard was certain that one day one day that 'fly solo' attitude of Miranda's was going to come back and bite her in her genetically perfect ass.

Today, however, it seemed Miranda was surprisingly willing to appreciate having someone looking out for her. There was an unusually long pause before she responded with a sincere " _...Thank you... Commander..._ " in a tone touched with a modicum of relief. Shepard's humour rapidly drained away. _OK... so_ _now_ _I wish I could at least see her face..._ She suddenly felt guilty for having joked around what had happened at all and worried Miranda's feelings had actually been hurt. It _was_ Shepard's intent to actually _help_ Miranda – she'd clearly spent far too much of her life _having_ to be self-reliant, learning that it was unwise to trust anybody completely...

 _But damn it: she never makes it easy_. _That co-worker of hers didn't call her 'ice queen' for no reason._ What was it Joker said about Garrus when he joined the mission this time around? Well the way Shepard figured it: _Miranda_ was the one who'd got a stick up _her_ [very fine] ass... and she would routinely beat any potential friendships to death with it. _Damn it Miranda – you make us get so used to you having a thick skin it's hard to predict the times when you don't._ Shepard ran her fingers back over her skull in frustration.

 _I'm sorry..._

... But she knew any such apology would either fall on deaf ears, be rebuked, or start a major argument between them, so she held it in. She was about to sign off, but then a smile crept across her face as a devious idea popped into her head:

"Now I want you _personally_ to hand out drinks to everyone at shift-changeover – 20:00 h. I want you to organise getting the crew together with Gardner... and Kelly – she's always up for a party. I want nibbles and something for those who can't or don't want to drink alcohol. I'm going to try to make this a weekly thing if possible whilst things are quiet. Be _sure_ anybody going on duty afterwards has no more than one shot of the stuff Zaeed's donating – it's pretty strong. Oh and make _sure_ the next on-shift each have a plate of food with that drink please – I don't want any accidents, hear?"

" _Shepard you want_ _me_ _to..?"_ Shepard tried hard not to giggle at her own ingenuity. _Yes Miranda. It's called integrating with the crew and it's about time you got on with it. It's for your own good – one day you'll thank me for it._

"Yes. I _might_ join you later. Technically I will be going off-duty, so that makes it your responsibility. I think the crew deserves it sooner rather than later considering what an ass Zaeed's been, and I couldn't think of a better time than general shift rotation. I'll let you handle the details of who stays on duty and who swaps with who. Just make sure it is understood that this is all by way of an apology from him."

" _...Yes, Commander..."_

"Alright then." Shepard heard the beep of her door, and her stomach went a little queasy when EDI simultaneously flashed a message onto her console (that was another thing Shepard had taught the AI to do: to message her rather than announce via audio who it was at the door whilst she was taking a call). Her breath hitched as she read it: " _Zaeed Massani is here to see you, Commander."_

"Actually slight change of plan Miranda -" Shepard quickly added, "Seeing as you're already up, can you take over this shift please? To be honest I'm pretty tired anyway, but it looks like Zaeed's finished arranging things sooner than expected. I'll do my best to keep him out of the way for you this evening."

"... _Acknowledged_ _, Shepard..."_

"Thanks Miranda. Out." _[Click]_ Now all she had to do was find her nerves before she let him in... He was earlier than she'd expected by a day at least, and part of her had wondered if he would come at all. The man continued to surprise her though – taking a telling off from the good doctor without so much as an _'And you can stick that effing needle up your...'_ from him either. He'd taken his meds without complaint, apologised to Miranda for his transgression (Shepard  really hadn't expected that) and relinquished his most treasured and likely longstanding habit, _and_ he had done all these things _long_ before the deadline she had set for him. _What next?_ She wondered. There was something endearing about his thoroughness, and evident determination to exceed her expectations.

Shepard put the thought of him trying to snoop on Miranda's ass to the back of her mind and _again_ reminded herself just how drunk he had been when he made the attempt. She had to do that, because if Shepard was even going to even  think about giving the guy a chance, she had to give him the benefit of a clean slate where a _lot_ of things were concerned. At least on the plus side, he _had_ given her some great opportunities for winding Miranda up. _I should actually be grateful,_ she mused, as she signalled EDI to open the door and spun her chair around to greet him.

Zaeed's boots sounded his approach after the door clunked shut. He walked more slowly than usual and upon facing her; he looked hesitant. Instead of coming to where Shepard sat at her console, he leaned against the fish tank on the opposite wall; his silhouette cut sharply from the blue light behind him. Previously he would at least come as far as the bathroom door before picking a leaning spot.

"...Shepard." he nodded, as he folded his arms and crossed his ankles. It was perhaps only then that Shepard noticed for the first time just how defensive his body language truly was, and probably always had been. You could be forgiven for not noticing it, given his brash and ballsy attitude to everything – never easily intimidated was Zaeed. In fact it was possible that Shepard had never seen him intimidated by anyone or anything – not even when she led him to believe she might leave him to burn to death on Zorya. Yet with every pose and every move he made, he drew a line that said: " _That's you. This is me. Keep away._ " It was a little sad actually, to realise just how hard he worked to maintain that distance. _Guess Miranda's not the only one with 'distance' issues._ Right now, Shepard could see that Zaeed needed that distance back again. She tried to oblige.

"...Hey. You're a little earlier than I expected." She smiled and leaned back against the desk, briefly eying her model collection to put him at ease. _See I'm relaxed; I'm not staring at you intently. This is easy; no pressure..._

"If this is a bad time I can come back later..."

"No – No. It's fine." She purred softly – perhaps _too_ softly, as he was quick to respond:

"I, uh, didn't want to stay long. I know you're busy. Just wanted to let you know I've ... done everything you asked." He swallowed and his eyes flickered nervously until they met hers at the last of that. The tone in his voice hinted: _and I've done it all for you..._ Butterflies hatched in Shepard's stomach but she did her best to ignore their first attempts at flight.

"I know, I heard." She smiled and slid him a glance as she turned to face her models fully, folded her own arms, crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair. She purposefully mimicked his defensive body language to set him at ease. "You've been pretty busy. I think you surprised quite a few people, but it was a pleasant surprise." She nodded, and smiled at him again before turning back to scrutinise one model in particular.

"Huh." He shrugged and she caught the movement in her peripheral vision. "Well that rabble'd better bloody appreciate it. Best goddamn stuff in the galaxy that is, and lots of it. Cost me a fair few credits that shit did and I'd _hate_ to see it go to waste." He grumbled, but she had a feeling he was less grumpy about it than he was putting on. Just for an instant there was something else – something hidden in his expression... shame perhaps? Embarrassment over how he'd lost control, being here with her _knowing_ pretty much every indiscretion he'd made on that account? _Perhaps._

A few specks of dust had gathered on the glossy black model Shepard was staring at. She huffed with annoyance, fixated on the blasphemous specks as she rose impatiently from her chair and carefully lifted the multi-legged model from its holder. "Humph. Anti-static paint obviously _doesn't_ mean 'no dust'..." she mumbled quietly, extending her arm without looking to open one of the desk drawers, reaching inside and pulling out a small paintbrush with a fluffy end. Still frowning as she concentrated, she carefully brushed the specs of dust away. She tried not to notice the sound of footsteps as they approached her, although her heart did all the same: it skipped a beat.

"Some pretty detailed models you have displayed here. That Sovereign?" Zaeed asked of the model she hesitantly returned to its holder. She put the brush back in the correct drawer without looking – habitual instinct of a motion well-rehearsed.

"That one?" She grinned, prideful; "You bet. As soon as I saw it I had to have it." Shepard leaned towards the model and her smile turned more serious. She folded her arms again. "Of course when I found it and bought it, it had been labelled as a 'Geth dreadnaught' – I was fuming."

"Goddamn sons of bitches... I'll _bet_ you were." Zaeed snarled sympathetically as he stood by her side and leaned towards the model. "Looks like you fixed that though." He grinned with a glint of mischief in his eye. It had been a while since she saw him smile like that – probably not since he no-scoped a merc with his sniper rifle at three hundred odd yards. He was particularly pleased with himself after pulling that off, although only _he_ knew his grinning was because of never having done that before, or, in fact, since. Shepard had just assumed he'd grinned because he got a surprised look from her at the time. _I swear if it wasn't for the size of that thing and the kick-back, he'd manage to shoot from the hip with that Mantis._ Shepard _had_ noted he certainly seemed able to do that with most other weapons.

Her expression darkened once more as she found herself staring at Sovereign's black and glossy form, as she so often did these days and did not know for certain why. "Yeah. This model is here to remind me of a lot of things." She sighed, "It reminds me that no matter what you do, some people just want to stick their fingers in their ears, scream _'lalala!'_ as loudly as they can and just hope a problem will _'go away'_." She pulled a sour expression but slowly relented with a half-smile as she added: "It also reminds me that impossible odds don't have to _mean_ impossible to beat. It reminds me of what I _can_ do." Shepard shrugged, "Sometimes I need reminding of that."

"Huh." Zaeed huffed as if he was actually surprised by that last statement. He leaned forward to get a closer look, placing both hands on the worksurface to balance – something that made Shepard's heart skip another beat as she felt the change in distance between them. There was a brief silence. "Y'know..." He said rather quietly, staring intently at Sovereign: "...all those times you've come to see me and I've waxed goddamn nostalgic 'til the cows came home over missions I'd done, big kills, and escaping from sticky situations... It never _once_ occurred to me in all that time you never once told me any of _your_ war stories. Compared to some of the shit that _you've_ pulled off, my shit is pretty tame."

Shepard smiled bashfully and shook her head. "Oh I don't know about that. The Illusive man thought pretty highly of you." Then with a careless shrug: "As for me... I don't really need to boast." Yet her words dripped with venom: "My stories are all over the extranet." She mocked herself, frowning with disdain, and sneered as if something bitter had just caught her tongue.

Zaeed half-shrugged and shook his head: "I always guessed what the media showed wasn't the _whole_ story. Goddamn scheming bastards that they are..."

"They only tell the bits they want to tell, and they only hear the bits they want to hear and somewhere someone in Alliance or Council censorship offices decides which bits should get buried 'for the greater good'..."

Zaeed shrugged. "...And if you don't fit that nice little 'ideal human' box the Alliance tries to ram you into then you're out on your ear with a sore arse to boot." He nodded then after a pause added: "I remember that reporter you saw on the Citadel; got the impression you two had a history. Why the bloody hell didn't you punch that smug bitch right in the face and tell it like it is? Hell of an opportunity you let go there."

"Short answer? Nobody wants to know."

Zaeed sighed and shook his head, pushing himself off the desk to stand up straight and think that over. Truth was Shepard didn't really _like_ thinking about how the galaxy had defiled her name, everything she'd done, and tried to re-write what actually took place. It rather put a downer on her day. She tried to laugh it off:

"That's just the way the galaxy works I'm afraid." She smiled. "But the thought occurs to me I _could_ have some fun with it now. Being dead for two years then showing up alive sprouts all _sorts_ of rumours. I could plant some rumours of my own... I've been trying to think of a good one."

Zaeed turned his eyes from the models to her. "Howabout we say –" He lurched half a step towards her with the tug of a smirk on his lips and a sparkle in his eye... "– just for shits and giggles, mind –" He waved a limp hand in the air, like he were some aristocratic art dealer: "– that the galaxy's golden girl is sharing a bed with the galaxy's most brutal and bloodthirsty bounty hunter?" He turned to plant himself almost in front of her and leaning back on the worksurface. He folded his arms as he watched and waited for her reaction.

It was decidedly British humour: never quite saying what you mean yet somehow simultaneously asking several questions at once, any one or all of which being the real question you were asking: _Do you want them to know about us? We're not exactly an obvious match for one another – do you really think this can work? It_ _is_ _kinda funny don't you think? Sure would soil that pretty name of yours... That bother you?_ But her heart fluttered realising the one obvious thing he had stated by way of asking that question: clearly he was still interested in her, he hadn't changed his mind, and he was pursuing that interest with enthusiasm.

"What?" Shepard responded with fake outrage, "You mean that son-of-a-bitch who founded the notorious mercenary gang the Blue Suns? I don't know... seems a bit 'out there' as rumours go, don't you think?" They both laughed. Shepard grinned with a sinister glint in her eye: the thought did have a certain appeal. "Well I haven't thought of anything better. Sure, why not? I'll go with that." She shrugged. _It's not exactly like that could do much worse to my reputation that I haven't done to it already by being in cahoots with the Illusive Man and Cerberus..._

Zaeed turned around and said nothing for a time, just stood beside her as the pair of them looked over the ships displayed in front of them, each lost in their own thoughts. It _was_ an impressive collection considering Shepard had purchased, assembled, and painted them all in the short twelve to eighteen months or so since her resurrection. She looked at the SR-1 fondly, for a time lost in memories. _Damn..._ She thought coming back to reality, _when did I get to be this relaxed around him? Relaxed enough to daydream?_ Still, it felt as if a weight had lifted from both their shoulders, and that was not to be overlooked.

Zaeed was the one to ease them out of that comfortable silence. Eying the display he leaned forward on the desk again as he remarked ever so softly: "Y'know... if you clean one you _should_ really clean the others." There was an air of protective disapproval to that statement. _Funny._ She realised that out of all the crew on the Normandy, Zaeed was probably the only one who understood her love for these models and her neuroticism regarding her keeping them in good condition. _Of course..._ She recalled: _he's a fellow collector, isn't he? He has the Verrikan._

"OK, OK. I admit it." She rolled her head back and then down, her shoulders slumped. "My fingers _have_ been itching go over the others ever since I noticed Sovereign had caught some dust... But if I get into that job it'll take me  hours to finish. I'll dust them off, then I'll figure the whole area needs to be dust-free. Then I'll remember the anti-static spray I've got. Heaven forbid I notice a bit of paintwork that could be done better..." She shook her head sternly, but that warning was directed at herself. Her eyes had already begun again to wander over the display, spotting the telltale dullness in light reflected from the tops of models that betrayed the possible presence of that awful, relentlessly falling, unavoidable bane of her existence that was more even pervasive than even the Reapers: _dust._

"Sounds to me like you could use some help." Words spoken with casual cheer, he leaning back from the desk and folded his arms.

"That's..." _Not what I would have expected..._ "Very thoughtful of you, really it is." She spared him a thankful smile but quickly turned back to face her models: "I know you're used to cleaning things carefully, but these things are a _lot_ more delicate than any gun you've been caring for..." _And making one model doesn't mean I'll let you near mine..._ Inwardly she thought to herself: _Nobody_ _– absolutely_ _nobody_ _touches my model ships except_ _me_.

Zaeed interjected: "I _know_ how to take care of models. You forget? Got me a model of a Turian cruiser I once took down for a mission. I'm sure I told you the story." When she looked at him sceptically he raised his voice a little and stated: "Shepard I used to build these things with my eyes closed before _you_ were even  born." He spared her a condescending scowl. "I took care of _my dad's_ models. The bastard had always wanted to be a goddamn pilot, but the old bugger was too fat to pass the physical and he was too goddamn _dumb_ to pass the theory. So instead he was fanatical about his model ships."

"Well so am _I_." Shepard stared at him threateningly, "But _anyway_ , they're not _that_ bad." She said dismissively, lifting her chin and her eyebrows, puckering her lips to that self-reassuring statement as she turned back to face her models once more. Then, as the thought of _dust_ crawled beneath her skin and wouldn't leave her alone, she added: "Might do a thorough job on them during my next shore leave though..."

... _Which gives you a good idea of what my shore leaves are usually like, doesn't it..?!_

She mentally face-palmed, then realising what her hands were wringing themselves for want to do, she scolded herself: _F_ _or heaven's sake I can't be such a bachelorette as to choose cleaning my models over hanging out with my ..._ But her self-scolding then ground to an abrupt halt when she couldn't find a word with which to finish that sentence. 'Boyfriend' just sounded plain  wrong ... _'Partner'?_ Almost as bad ... _'Lover'?!_ That just sent her mind down tracks she was sure it shouldn't be treading, _yet_ , even if he was standing exceptionally close to her.

"Fair enough." He chuckled, and Shepard watched anxiously as he leaned towards the Geth Cruiser. He said nothing, but pulled a face like he'd tasted something sour, sucking air through his teeth.

"What? What is it?" She asked protectively, all other thoughts immediately side-lined. Her nape prickled at the thought that there might be more dust up there... hiding just out of view... Sitting there spoiling the paint and scratching the gloss... _Damn you for being slightly taller than me in those boots. Damn you Sovereign, too... for so many things... And damn it: why do I get the feeling like I can fool him even less on that than I can fool myself about my obsession?!_

He frowned and quickly put away that expression: "... Oh... uh... Nothing."

" _Tell me_." Shepard scowled at him deadpan and set her jaw in irritation.

Zaeed shook his head ever so slowly, tightening his lips into a deeply worried look before saying: "I shouldn't – you might end up cleaning the lot of 'em, like you said."

"Why? What can you see?" The fact that she wasn't quite tall enough to see over the top of that model but _he_ was, was really getting on her nerves.

"Oh it's only a _tiny_ little bit of dust..." He sounded so patronising that for a moment she glared at him and wanted to thump him, but the nagging of her compulsion became unbearable. She _had_ to look. Clambering up onto the worksurface on her hands and knees she was perfectly oblivious to the fact that Zaeed was – through half-lidded eyes and a rather lazy smirk – rather _enjoying_ the view. He was rather pleased with himself and somewhat surprised to find that she'd actually fallen for that. He leaned back just enough to get a good look at her rear while she stood on her knees and tried to get a closer look at the top of the model...

"Goddess!" She exclaimed, having picked up that exclamation from Liara years ago. Zaeed quickly brought himself forward again and pulled a sober, 'sincerely concerned and sympathetic' expression in case she turned around. She glared at the model Geth Cruiser with dismay: "I can't _believe_ how dirty it is!" She leaned across in front of Zaeed on one arm on parted knees while he tried to contain the primal urge to moan lustfully at the scent and sight of her as she swayed in front of him. Instinct wanted _between_ her thighs, but Zaeed was – regarding _some_ things – a patient man. _Some things are worth waiting for and building up to...  
_

Propping herself then on one knee Shepard exclaimed: "And just look at Destiny Ascension!" Frantic worry spread across her face and she lifted herself quickly to stand up enough to get a view of all her models from above. She planted her legs apart and shoved her hands on her hips in extreme frustration.

"How?" She mumbled, "How?!" then with increasing volume: "I swear I only cleaned them last month!"

"Huh." Zaeed frowned as he looked her up and down. She twisted to face him with a half-suspicious glare and almost caught him at it, but he was quick to correct his appearance to be that of a man completely attentive and devoutly sympathetic. Then he raised an eyebrow and the almost-smirk he was trying to contain broke through as he said, patronisingly: "Oh _dear_. Looks to me like you're _definitely_ going to be busy now..." He shook his head and tutted. Then he shrugged and added cheerfully: "Well... I guess I should leave you to it, then." Stepping backwards, he turned to go.

"Hang on a minute..." She said reluctantly, squinting her eyes at him as she climbed back down.

Zaeed turned back to face her as he folded his arms. Leaning back with lazy ease he said: "What's that? Sudden change of mind? Decided you want some help after all?" He subdued his smirk and took on an air of nonchalance. Shepard glared: _The scheming bastard. He knew damn well what he was doing! He wound me up! He did! He wound me up on purpose!_

Shepard desperately thought about her models, and then she remembered she had made a promise to keep Zaeed out of Miranda's way this evening. _Damn him!_ She knew her neuroticism wasn't going to go away, not _now_ anyway. Realising that it was the best compromise, in the end she gave in: "Alright, alright. You can help. But if you so much as scratch  one of these, so help me -"

"I won't. I promise." He smirked. "I'm done getting threatened with being thrown out of the nearest airlock. At least for _this_ week." He planted his feet shoulder width apart and stretched his shoulders and neck as he said that.

"Hear that galaxy?" She mumbled quietly to herself, "I've got a mercenary's promise..." then louder and directly to Zaeed with a piercing stare: "Fine." A moment later, taking Destiny Ascension off its hooks and holding it out gingerly towards him: "Here. You can start on this one. Hold it here and here, the model's weak points are here, here and here." She motioned with her fingers, "I'll get you a brush." Still holding onto the model with one hand, she snatched two brushes out of the drawer and slammed it shut. Manipulating the brushes with her fingers so she had one held as if to work with, she then began to motion: "Now when you're using the brush -"

Zaeed rolled his eyes impatiently and huffed as he cut her off, presenting an open hand: "Shepard just gimme the goddamn _ship_."


	5. Chapter 5 - Temptation

~ Finding The Heart ~

Temptation

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the intellectual property of Bioware, not mine.

WARNING: Rated for MA for future chapters. 16yrs+ readers only please. Foul language, adult concepts.

Author note: I've purposefully tried not to describe Shepard too much, after all, fans of Mass Effect will each have their own versions of Shepard, so I leave those parts up to your imagination.

* * *

Shepard's cabin looks like a cross between an artist's studio, a mechanics garage and a factory assembly line. Paint brushes of all shapes, sizes, and grades of bristles are strewn across the coffee table which is now covered by a paint-splattered canvas sheet. Tiny bottles of paint of many different colours lie scattered about the place. The 'production line' extends to part of the sofa and the work surface around the corner below the model display area.

The sofa hosts a number of odd-looking tools including a file and a pair of tweezers, a few small (but very sharp) knives, along with an assortment of other brushes with soft fluffy ends not meant for painting but for dusting. Around the corner towards the bathroom the work surface is covered in a different cloth, immaculately clean, a mask and a couple of canisters – one with a fine-tube attached to the nozzle. In the midst of this meticulously organised chaos sit Shepard and Zaeed, who at this moment are having a _slight_ difference of opinion...

"No that... yes there... no... Will you just... **_You're not holding it right!_** " Shepard's voice near-shook the model in question as she yelled. Impatiently she placed down both the paint brush and the open bottle of paint. All but this one model had been given an intimate dusting and – where necessary – a few make-over touches. One had actually been taken apart and put back together again by the perfectionist orchestrating this saga and presently yelling.

"Well you won't let me bloody get a hold of the thing properly!" Chuckled Zaeed as she tried to change the angle he was holding it at.

Realising she'd raised her voice, Shepard flushed hot and cold with mild embarrassment. According to Kasumi she _had_ from time to time been heard from yelling in her quarters by people in the floor below – on odd occasions like when she stubbed her toe or lost her patience with a report... And the thought had just occurred to her what it might sound like she and Zaeed were _doing_ together. She lowered her voice.

"Your fingers are too fat." Shepard huffed, further irritated as she attempted to put his fingers into the right places. "How you ever assembled that Turian cruiser I will never know."

Zaeed raised an eyebrow in offence as he scowled - now he was the one doing the yelling: "Says 'er who can't paint a straight line to save her life!" That alone was enough to make Shepard gawp in indignation before he even added: "Y'know if you quit complaining like a bitch and just told me how you want me to hold the damn thing it'd be a hell of a lot easier!"

"You!" Shepard exclaimed in outrage, still sore on the fact that the Normandy's 'O' hadn't been quite a perfectly rounded rectangle with ninety degree angles and that _he_ had noticed, meaning she'd had to do it over again. Nonetheless she vehemently denied that the '1' in 'SR-1' was anything but geometrically perfect and  straight.

Zaeed glared at her as he added at a lesser volume: "And I'll have you know that I'm _very_ good with my fingers when I want to be – thank you very much." He half-lidded his eyes as a half-smile emerged from that puckered scowl.

"Then _why_ is it you can't hold this model straight _or_ steady?" Shepard asked, still frowning with concentration as she tried to get him to shift his thumb to a new place. It took a moment for her to register the last thing he said, so focused on the task at hand as she was, but then a smile began to creep across her face. She half-laughed, quickly embarrassed that it had taken her _that_ long to get that double entendre. She hesitated, suddenly aware that her fingers were still curled around his thumb. As blood rushed to her cheeks, her eyes drew down to his hand and the warm, dry, roughness of his skin was in that moment all that she could think about.

"Don't." Zaeed said feebly, prompting her to snatch her eyes upwards to meet his. What she found there she didn't expect. He looked dead serious, his expression halfway between fear and hunger. Suddenly even breathing seemed loud. Her breath hitched as she noticed it, aware then of its steady rhythm as it settled down. She could even hear his, and that upped her heartbeat. Her fingers twitched thinking of that sharp warning given. Her expression turned to questioning but before she could say anything he quickly added: "Don't you bloody dare. Don't _tempt_ me." His husky voice combined with the threat in his eyes was really _quite_ the combination.

" _I_ didn't do anything..." Shepard was quietly defensive, dropping her voice as she held herself perfectly still. She hadn't really meant it to sound that seductive... But _he_ was the one who'd flirted first.

"I know what you're thinking Shepard." His expression turned to one of warning. "Don't you fucking _dare_ kiss me." Those were the words he spoke but there was hunger in his eyes that told her something very different. She was about to ask why not, but he spoke again before she got the chance: "Shepard you kiss me again and I  swear I'll take my combat knife from my boot tear off your clothes and shag you senseless for the next twelve hours I shit you not."

His words flowed without pause as they did when he was making a point, but how that was meant to be a threat and not an invitation she did not comprehend. She drifted a little closer and Zaeed's jaw tightened as he clamped his mouth shut. She could hear how fast and shallow he was breathing. She half-closed her eyes, enchanted with desire but he purposefully evaded her lips, forcing her to track them with hers. He taunted her like this as he spoke, low and quiet like soft thunder:

"It's not that I don't _want_ to Shepard... _Believe_ me it's all I've been able to think about since..." But he hesitated before finishing that sentence, then pulled away. "But... I want to do this right." _For once in my life..._ Then when Shepard tilted her head to give him a worried look, he swallowed hard and by way of explanation added: "Never really done 'right' by a woman before." _Don't know if I can change the habits of a lifetime... But doing_ _this_ _properly'd be a start._ Sadness and regret flashed across his expression but were quickly put away as he smiled that old confident smile that was far more familiar.

Shepard was stunned. _Do this 'right'..?_ Considering the lust his eyes had betrayed moments earlier, his self-control now was mind-boggling. She'd always thought he'd be the kind of person to take what he wanted whenever it was on offer, not save it for later. But there was something vulnerable in the way he had looked when he balked, so she put aside however much she wanted to throw caution out of the nearest airlock and reclaimed her composure. She nodded respectfully. _Well at least one of you is being an adult about this –_ she reprimanded herself. _Rushing into things is exactly why I don't_ _do_ _romance._ But the afterthought of him being the one holding back did little to strengthen her restraint. She scolded herself again: _Cats and curiosity, remember?_

"Alright." She pulled back into being her usual professional self. "So how do you want to do this?" She said that with a trusting smile, working hard to stop herself from pushing the issue and instead to allow him the space he evidently needed.

"Well..." He started, his lips beginning to pull upwards into a dirty smirk as he spoke: "I was thinking I'd at least like to take you on a date."

"A date?!" Shepard laughed, and then felt guilty for being so surprised.

"Somewhere with people but not a crowd. The idea of screwing you in front of an audience might not put _me_ off, but you might not feel the same way." _Ah. So_ _that's_ _what he was thinking about to make him smirk like that just then._ "That way at least we can _talk_ a little and I won't have to worry that I'm gonna shag your brains out before you finish a sentence..." _Which I might do if I stay here much longer..._ \- his eyes seemed to say, and Shepard thought to herself: _Well if my cheeks weren't bright red already..._ He shrugged as he continued. "...Somewhere we can get a meal for two. Quiet but not  too quiet. Upper class kinda place. After that though..." His eyebrow pulled up devilishly: "...It's your call."

 _Now who's tempting who?_ Shepard fought to get her beating heart under control. "Alright. I can do that. I was thinking about the possibility of arranging shore leave for when you wanted to go to Earth anyway. That's two days from now isn't it?"

"Perfect." He nodded upwards and grinned, his eyes staring off into the ceiling as he pondered before adding: "I know _just_ the place..." Looking back at her: "To be honest I was counting on it being that day anyway. I uh... already made some arrangements."

Shepard raised both brows to that. _Presumption indeed..._ "I guess I'd better get on with sorting out shore leave then. Should make the crew happy at least." Shepard shrugged and smiled, but there was a glint in her eye and an extra 'umph' in her heartbeat that she hadn't felt in _years_.

Zaeed slowly surrendered the model to her as she took it in both hands. She swivelled to place it down on the coffee table beside them, turning back just in time to see Zaeed rising to his feet.

"It's a date then." He announced, confidently. "Pick you up here, 18:00 h?"

Shepard stood up too, albeit with a look of sad disappointment. "Sure that'd be fine... You leaving?"

"Yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck and let out this long, lustful moan: "Before I change my mind." His eyes told her _exactly_ what he meant as he looked her up and down. If he'd _ever_ done that before, she sure as hell never caught him. Her stomach was doing somersaults.

"Don't I even get a goodnight kiss?" She flirted; the words tumbled out of her mouth before she even realised what she was doing. _Damn him. I'm acting like a school girl..._

" _Hell_ no." He laughed heartily, turned, and strolled towards the door. Stepping through it he shouted back to her: "Talk later, Shepard." The door hissed shut behind him.


	6. Chapter 6 - Peace

~ Finding The Heart ~

Peace

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the intellectual property of Bioware, not mine.

WARNING: Rated for MA for future chapters. 16yrs+ readers only please. Foul language, adult concepts.

Author note: I've purposefully tried not to describe Shepard too much, after all, fans of Mass Effect will each have their own versions of Shepard, so I leave those parts up to your imagination.

* * *

Zaeed had been in a pretty damn good mood all day. He was now rather happy about the fact he couldn't get _Commander_ Shepard out of his skull. Damn that woman had got under his skin. The last few months had been an emotional rollercoaster for the hardened mercenary – a man who had long ago learned to bury his emotions – save a useful few – in a very deep hole with barbed wire all around, hung with fifty thousand mental charms that made damn _sure_ those feelings wouldn't be coming back to haunt him. It had been a sound strategy, until shit happened. Shit that he'd never stood a chance of expecting.

He'd been totally unprepared when events conspired to set them loose, and the raw pain of the experience rivalled being left for dead with a gunshot wound to the head. But then just when he thought life couldn't get turned any _more_ upside down... Shepard happened. Shepard was like an intercity freight train speeding towards you when you're tied to the tracks. And that was just when she'd got a  job to do. Only the truly brave or insane would try to bed her, knowing the wrath they might face if they got on the other side of her temper. No bugger in his right mind wanted to piss her off and if she was mad at _you,_ well... A sensible man would run and bloody  hide. That being said, Zaeed himself didn't _run_ from anyone or anything.

 _But it hadn't been principle that day when I didn't run. No..._ _Had me a bloody deathwish, I did._

Shepard had happened to Zaeed in a way that right now he figured she was the only woman in the galaxy capable of doing: she had turned him inside out. He knew she regularly pulled off the unexpected, the impossible, but never in a million _years_ would he have expected her to throw herself in his direction – for a one-off  fuck let alone _romance_. It shook Zaeed's world to its very foundations so thoroughly that he was left wondering whether he'd actually already killed himself and this was the goddamn galaxy's way of payback; taunting him with things too good to be true.

That or even more implausibly he was in _heaven_ (un-fucking likely, given the shit he'd done in his life) and fantasies of the galaxy's golden girl were just the form of it he'd unwittingly chosen... Off his bleedin' trolley as he most certainly was if  that was the case, because he'd never even _dream_ of hooking up with such an out-spoken, self-righteous, do-good _pain-in-the-neck_ like her.

 _Well... Save one._

But that was a long time ago, before he learned how the galaxy rewarded such people. Mind you, _she_ never knew how to use her fists let alone a gun. He'd never met anyone like _her_ who knew how to use a gun. Never met anyone who knew how to use a gun who was anything like _her,_ either... until Shepard. Yet that was the twist of it all you see: _her_ being the beginning, and Shepard being the end of this barmy roller coaster ride. So anyhow here he was, and the _dream_ continued. No, _not_ a dream – he  knew it was reality. Hell of a woman, _Shepard_ was. Hell of a right hook. Even threatened to leave him to die once... But Zaeed had always had a soft spot for women who could kill him – 'thin line between love and hate' and all that.

Well... after _her_ anyhow.

 _Swore back then I'd never let anyone close to me again that couldn't handle twenty armed men single-handedly... I_ _had_ _thought that pretty much ruled out everyone save a few asari matriarchs, a couple of krogan warlords and my own left hand... Then I met Shepard. Shit that girls got nerves of goddamn steel! Skills to match too..._ _And_ _she's smart – that's a dangerous combination if ever there was one._ _But I knew right there and then she was a goddamn do-gooder and there'd be never be anything between us. Or at least that's what I thought. So what the bleedin' hell's she interested in_ _me_ _for?!_

He definitely hadn't seen that one coming. If anything he'd expected to be tossed out of the airlock for what he did (let alone what he _almost_ did). He'd been so mad with rage he'd thrown her up against the wall in her own quarters and if that's not grounds for dismissal on _her_ ship he was doubly surprised. At the time he'd just wanted somebody, _anybody_ right there and then to understand. He was desperate; he wasn't thinking. But then he'd looked into her eyes and seen the same pained and worried expression that... _she_ _..._ used to have, and _that_ had left him shaking.

In retrospect it shouldn't have been so surprising – _they're actually similar people, everything else aside..._ But seeing a face pulled like that had brought on a flood of emotions – emotions that Zaeed had bottled away and previously imagined he was rid of for good. He'd had to do that many years ago else quite simply he'd never have survived this long. So he'd missed the depth of their similarities - Shepard and _her_ \- until it was upon him. He'd been ill-prepared for the consequences.

He'd almost lost who he was and where he was and who it was he had pinned up against a wall or why... And in _that_ moment, all he'd wanted to do was to kiss her – tear off all her clothes and pour himself _and_ all these damnable feelings into her in the only way he knew how... Then he'd realised what he was about to do and more importantly who he was about to do it  to.

Shepard wasn't some whore he'd paid up front to fuck, not some random one night stand he'd never have to worry about later. She was his commanding officer and by way of the Illusive Man also his employer, and the sort of woman who might just bash your fucking skull in for crossing her if she really didn't like what you did. It was hard to imagine how he could've dug himself a bigger hole. But even worse than that he'd basically thrown Shepard up the wall nearly kissed her without even so much as a wink of an invitation to do so and _that..._ was something he swore he'd never do. To anyone. Ever. Just the thought of it sickened him to his very core.

That was when he'd realised what an absolute goddamned mess he _truly_ was. He was falling apart. No two ways about it. He'd imagined after that he might as well go drink himself to death for all the use he was to himself or anyone anymore, not least for the use he was to her – assuming she'd even want him on the ship after that. She would've had every right not to. Especially since even after that, he couldn't stop thinking about her... And there was not a whore in sight to ease his frustration and get her out of his head. No he'd bloody gone and fucked things up royally and there was no going back. He'd got himself the hell out of there – at least he'd had presence of mind enough to do that – but that was his limit. After that he had just been waiting for the inevitable when she showed up the next morning.

Yet instead of spacing him, _she_ shared a drink with him, then _she_ fucking kissed _him_! _That'd_ pulled the goddamn ground from under him and he'd been left not knowing whether he was coming or going. And he hadn't woken up. It was still real. She was clearly _still_ interested, too, if last night's model ship renovation session was anything to go by, although he remained confused as hell as to why. It couldn't be looks. He'd heard through the grape vine she'd once had a thing for some pretty-boy staff commander on the first Normandy about her age so it _couldn't_ be looks. Besides that would've been fucking _rare..._ since that son-of-a-bitch Vido blew half his face off. He was sure she wasn't in it for money or favours either and _that..._ was something he was just as unaccustomed to.

Frowning, he realised he'd just gone full circle _again._ Although he  was now - _slowly -_ getting used to the idea that this was real, and that her intentions were real. He allowed himself now to believe it. He allowed himself now to enjoy the idea of it. He now allowed his mind to think about all the things he'd spent a sore fourteen hours or so prior to that brain-breaking moment when she came to see him, trying drunkenly to suppress.

 _Damn her and her sodding always-concealing clothes!_ If it wasn't her dress uniform, it was her armour. One or the other. No real clues a man could use to get his head around what she might actually  look like _underneath_. That... was torture. He'd've slept a hell of lot easier if by now she'd only worn something like that Cerberus bitch Lawson wears; something that plainly leaves little to the imagination. But _noooo..._ Shepard had to wear stuff that had him guessing day and night what she could look like under it. _OK maybe 'sleep better' wouldn't be the actual outcome_ , he thought to himself as a lustful smirk spread across his face, _but at least then the_ _question_ _wouldn't be driving me nuts_.

Legion hadn't helped much either. Memories of the conversation he'd had with Bucket o' Bolts this morning reminded him of that:

"Zaeed Massani Bounty Hunter – are you certain that Shepard Commander should not be included in this conversation? Our studies of your species indicate that access to biometric data usually requires permission from the individual in question."

"Yes I told you, remember? This is just so that we can get some additional armour made with upgraded materials for the Commander." Zaeed shrugged and tried to remain _calm_ and _patient._

"We have reached a consensus that Zaeed Massani Bounty Hunter is omitting truth regarding his intentions. Request for estimated biometric data on Shepard Commander is therefore denied."

 _For fucks sake what'd I have to_ _do_ _to get this thing to tell me what I need to know?!_ "Wait –" Zaeed cradled his forehead in his hand whilst the other rested on his hip. "Alright you damned bucket of bolts - if you must know: it's a  surprise."

"...We are building consensus." A flicker of metal composite parts around Legion's flashlight-head and moments later: "Are you suggesting that you wish to buy Shepard Commander a 'gift' and that your request for her biometric data is for the purpose of constructing a _gift_?"

"Yes." Zaeed stopped rubbing his forehead, and looked up, hopeful of a potential breakthrough.

"May we ask as to the true nature of this 'gift'? Armour is a statistically irregular gift to be purchased for human on their birthday and the birthday of Shepard Commander is one month three weeks two days and fourteen hours away. Again we suspect that Zaeed Massani Bounty Hunter is not expressing truth regarding his intentions."

Zaeed clutched at his temples again, and tried to remember why it was a bad thing to shoot this thing in its stupid fucking flashlight-head, apart from the fact that he nowadays knew Geth neural processors were located near the base of the spine. _Wait what was that about her birthday? When'd he say it was? One month, three weeks... how many days was it? Bollocks! Forget that – I can look it up later!_ He let out a frustrated sigh and tried  again:

"I'm hoping to get something made from the finest materials – custom made, it takes _time_. I don't want to tell you exactly what it is because it is meant to be a _surprise_ _._ Get it?"

"You do not trust us to keep your design 'secret' - why?"

"It's personal. I want it to be a gift from me to her. I can promise to tell her later that you helped me, if that'll ease your circuits. I'll give you credit for helping, will that do?" That was his best, last, desperate attempt to convince the AI that he wasn't up to something devious, despite his reputation. EDI would have been easier to talk to, but considering his drunken attempts at getting her to give him camera access to Miranda's shower cubicle he didn't think approaching her for help was a smart idea.

Another pause and Bucket-o-Bolts did another weird twitching of that metal flanging around its flashlight-head before it finally answered, to his infinite relief: "There are many things about organics that we do not yet understand. Very well. We estimate Shepard's biometric data when without clothing to be as follows..."

...Those measurements had jerked his eyebrows up as far as they'd go as he heard them. Not that any of them particularly stood out: it was just too much food for thought. Straight away his mind had been trying to convert those measurements into images when he should have been noting them down on his omnitool (he didn't want any records of how he'd got them). But his conclusion from all that information was that either armour hides more than he thought, or he needed to pay more attention to Shepard's figure. _All in good time man, all in good time..._ He grinned devilishly to himself. Lying in the privacy of his own bed, having since made all necessary arrangements following that frustrating episode with Legion, he now cheerfully recollected all those measurements at his leisure. He had, of course, dutifully committed them all to memory.

 _Anyway what matters..._ He reeled in his mental focus again: _is that it's all_ _done_ _. Everything's in motion._ _Just have to wait_. With satisfaction painted across his expression and a twinkle in his eye, he lay back and stared at the ceiling, arms behind his head. After he'd spent a while feeling pleased with himself his eyes wondered down to the floor to where a datapad lay face down by the door, abandoned since being angrily cast onto the deck plates, temporarily forgotten in the events of the past forty eight hours.

His smile subsided and his stomach dropped. In his enthusiasm he'd actually managed nigh on two days without thinking obsessively about... _her._ It caught him off guard; thinking of her now. His stomach tried to tie itself in knots. He stared at that pad for a good long while as he slowly made what was a gut-wrenching decision. His expression turned cold as stone before finally, gingerly, he walked over and picked that datapad up. Sitting back down on the bed he held it in his hands awhile, still face down. Slowly... he turned it over. With great deliberation, he gradually moved his finger to press the power button...

The image the pad displayed as it restored itself would forever be etched into his memory, as would the words written below it – that was a price he had to pay. Nonetheless it _was_ the first time he'd looked upon the image or the text sober since he'd found it. Before  this moment, he'd dare not face it without the comforting feel of a bottle in hand and the blurring of senses that came courtesy of the contents within. His finger traced down the curve of the dead woman's face with an old man's tenderness he had never showed her in life.

In this moment, he recalled how he had felt the first time he'd seen this photo, and _precisely_ why that drink had been necessary ever since. This time, however, there was a change in his mood and he pressed himself to  look, sober. He stared with unblinking resolution, determined to face her and absorb the full force of impact that the sight of her would have upon his wretched soul.

 _No anaesthetic. No bandage for the wound; let it bleed._ _Just_ _look_ _at her and feel the pain. Live it. Breathe it in. Carve it into your memory you sorry bastard and let it be a lesson about things you should have done better._

He _had_ seen her face every night he'd closed his eyes for many years after the events that separated them, but memory was fluid and he had previously remembered her only as she was back then; young and sweet and far too trusting. This photo was _real_ though, the reality of it was sculpted by the slight tell-tale of wrinkles in her complexion, but more than that it was painted by her eyes. Her eyes looked wiser, older, filled by the experiences of twenty six years of life to which Zaeed had not been privy.

It made him a little sick every time he recalled when it was exactly that he had stopped thinking about her; five years later when a new face replaced hers... It had been the day that fucking son-of-a-bitch Vido betrayed him - the day Zaeed finally concluded that the galaxy was hell bent on screwing him. He stopped caring about anything else that day except money and the sheer fucking resolve that _one day_ he'd find a way to get even, to watch with satisfaction as that back-stabbing son-of-a-bitch asphyxiated on his own blood, gargling to the last breath, with the last lesson Zaeed had ever thought he'd have to teach him: loyalty.

After that Zaeed had been absorbed with rage and an all-consuming lust for revenge. _Galaxy has a fucking sordid sense of humour..._ He reflected darkly: while he was busy baiting Shepard with a false story to get her planet-side to finally get a chance to kill Vido, _she_ had been laid up in hospital, giving up her last breath. _Still alive... Christ I wish there was a way to go back, to say I'm sorry, to do it all again..._ His eyes watered, but he'd been down that path many times and he knew where it led.

What he hadn't told Shepard – or anybody – is that he had kept one _single_ bottle of whiskey that he hadn't handed over. Briefly, eyes closed, he eyed with his mind's eye where it was hidden, and his mouth grew dry and thirsty. He forced his eyes open again but he would _not_ let his eyes shift from her face. _Not this time. I owe you more than that._ He clawed himself back from the desire to throw everything out of the fucking airlock, down that bottle in two minutes flat, put a pistol to his head and pull the trigger. Tell the truth though it was a lot further away – that temptation – than it had been before, but the struggle still damn near made him cry. He was about to yell out when he almost heard Shepard's voice in the back of his mind. He could almost feel Shepard's hand on his shoulder, urging him, encouraging him: _"You know where to find me. Anytime. Anytime you feel like hitting that bottle again you come to me and I'll be there for you. You don't need it anymore Zaeed..."_

He knew he was in a sorry state if he was imagining such things as 'comfort' coming from another sentient being, but nonetheless it prompted him to remember why it was he'd decided to do this. There _had_ been a purpose... Not just the self-torture ritual he had grown accustomed to over the past month that spiralled him further and further down each time into the belief that _death_ was better – better than living with the knowledge of what he _could_ have had but never had because of his own goddamn self interest. Taking a deep breath and holding back the nausea, he tried to focus.

"Alice..." The sound of his own voice surprised him, and her name was the key to emotional floodgates he'd dare not even _think_ since this started. It was barely a murmur, his voice; and the very act of speaking aloud seemed to take every ounce of strength that he had left. "Alice... I..." He shook his head, trying to remember the words that turned to mist in his thoughts, evading his every grasp. He tried again:

"Alice I don't expect forgiveness." Suddenly as if out of nowhere, the words spilled forth: "I never knew. If I _had_..." _No. I've got to be honest. I wasn't the man I am today..._ "I don't know. I was a different man back then – I wasn't the man you deserved."

His mind certainly tried to race headlong down the path of all his regrets with that admission, how maybe he could never have been what he should have been to her, how he'd have probably screwed her life up even more had he been around to be in it, but oh how he would have tried, oh how he _would_ have tried... How if he could be who he was right now and go back in time, he'd've found her and made a damn good effort... _But I can't, can I?_ He stopped himself. _You're dead and I'm gonna have to bloody suck it up and live with that._

"It would never have _been_ perfect. I know that. Only cowards imagine what could've been instead of facing what is." He cursed himself but quickly realised his focus had slipped and he was thinking about himself again. _Argh! Just get_ _over_ _yourself you fucking dim-witted moron!_

He took a deep breath, "But that's not what this is about." and he pulled himself back again. Slowly his battered brain noticed something he'd never seen before. He muttered to himself, baffled at the revelation: "You know... I've _only_ just noticed that you're smiling in this photo?" He stared for a long time unbelieving as slowly this new observation sunk in. "Eggs'll bloody get you pearls... You really _are_ aren't you?  Smiling!"

He chuckled in surprise, and felt a little giddy. "I'll be fucking damned..." He said with new-found admiration, "You really _were_ one hell of a woman to go through what _you_ went through and still be able to smile like that, you know that?" And she was. She _really_ was. Many folks killed themselves after going through the kind of assault she went through – that was the sad truth. Or they broke and there was no fixing them. But here she was, smiling sunshine.

Gradually his mind did the sums. She had lived another twenty six after the events of the day that parted them. Sure he'd read the obituary over and over, but it dawned on Zaeed that he'd been so fixated on the first line of it (detailing her death, the date and how etc), that he hadn't really paid much attention to the rest except to know that someone else had stolen the years that he could have had – _should_ have had – with her.

With a stone in his gut he read those words once more – and not just the facts of dates and such – and he tried to ask the brutal question: was it possible she had been happy without him? Despite him? He wondered then if maybe she'd gotten over him... Lived a happy life with, and actually _loved,_ whoever wrote these words. It _was_ a little painful to tell the god's honest truth... Part of him _wanted_ to think she'd spent her whole life pining for him until the very end. Such an assumption would deepen the wound and make it bleed all the more profusely. Yet... for the first time in his life maybe just _maybe_ Zaeed actually understood what it was to truly love somebody...

"I think... I'd _want..._ to think that you _were_ happy..." He read the words anew and with that sentiment in mind:

" _...Alice was a woman whose smile could lift the heaviest load from your heart. Her kindness knew no bounds. Somehow despite everything life threw at her she was giving, loving, and open hearted to a fault. It is a testament to her character and strength of will that she endured all that she suffered with grace and virtue to the very end. Alice you were a beacon in the darkness; my brightest star. May your light guide me to your side once more when the time comes. Until then my love, you will be sorely missed."_

Zaeed's eyes watered. A single tear fell. It stung: the realisation that those words were as true as if he himself had written them, having all the potency of his _own_ feelings. The man who wrote those words  loved her, no doubt about it. Zaeed frowned.

"If he _loved_ you Alice..." His voice all but strangled its way out of his throat. "If he loved  you, and if you loved him... Then I guess I... I suppose I should step aside. I should let you go. I think I _need_ to let you go." His breath hitched, "I'd like for you to have been happy, and... part of me thinks maybe, just maybe, you were." He sighed. "I think I can live with myself, thinking that. I think I can let you go... believing that."

He jabbed a bony index finger at her nose and smiled: "One day I'm gonna come visit you again. I'm going to tell all this to your grave. I promise." He took a deep breath and shook his head, "I... I'm sorry Alice. For everything. Nothing I could say or do will ever make it OK but... I hope you're at peace with everything. I hope you found peace, love, happiness... all the many things that you deserved that _I_ couldn't give to you. If _he_ gave them to you, then I guess I need to thank the bastard one day, whoever he is."

Zaeed breathed freely now, although he was shaking. The weight of guilt was lifting and that in itself was slightly dizzying. He wiped away the trail of the tear that had fallen, slowly, with surprise: _Damn it all woman you_ _actually_ _made me cry..._ He half smiled at the power she'd had, _still_ had over him. Then he thought about Shepard and wonder if she'd have the same influence...

"Oh..." he thought he should add: "I should also probably tell you I've... well I've met someone - might almost be as special as you. She's my commanding officer! Yes. I know. Asking for trouble. Actually... I think you'd like her. Like you she's got a heart of bloody gold. Since I joined her crew she's kept me on the straight and narrow – she gives me a good hiding if I stray. You'd be impressed. Crazy bitch thinks just like you – _'everyone should have a chance to prove their worth, everyone has potential to be a good person'_ – she's full of rubbish like that."

He laughed: "I still think it's a load of bollocks, mind, but... Well... Maybe part of me might just be starting to believe some of it. Sure you'd laugh your socks off at me saying that." He chuckled and grinned: "Right before you said _'I told you so'..._ I'll bet." He sniffed and wiped an itch on his nose. "Well maybe you were right after all... all those years ago." He shrugged, and Alice stared back with benevolence.

He remembered the troubled look she wore whenever he came home to her apartment and told her proudly how he'd beaten someone to death for not paying their dues. He remembered every time he told a story like that how she'd just kind of look at him mournfully, not as if she pitied the people he'd hurt or killed that day – that was what drove him nuts. No she looked at him like she pitied Zaeed _himself_ , as if in some way these things he'd done to other people had hurt _him_. He stared at her picture long and hard, hoping for a sign, a message, some way she could tell him her opinion. He knew that was just plain stupid but then somewhere, from the back of his mind, he heard her voice:

 _"It's OK... Shhh... You don't have to worry about me anymore. Just promise... Promise me you'll do your best..?"_

It _was_ the sort of thing she'd've said. Zaeed didn't believe in much, but he imagined everyone left their mark on the people whose lives they got involved in. Somewhere in the back of that thick skull of his, he imagined he'd clocked up enough time around her that his mind was able to manifest what she'd likely have said, given the scenario... But then that made him wonder why he hadn't been able to hear what she might say before now. _But of course..._ He realised it all then; the depth of his own selfishness – _I was so fucking caught up in my own self-pity, I couldn't think or feel past my own goddamn pain._ But imagining Alice's words there and then gave him a sense of peace he hadn't had since he lost her, and even before that it had been so short lived that he barely remembered it anymore. He had forgotten what it felt like. Getting it back made it feel like a door was opening. For the first time in twenty seven years... he _hoped._

"I promise." He stared at her image: "I promise I'll work hard not to let you down. I'll treat _her_ like I should have treated you." Again, drawn to her smile, he wished he knew that these ideas he had about what she'd say were more than just his thoughts. He wished he could actually talk to her. But her smile eased his worry; slowly his heart lightened. He pressed the power button on the pad and politely waited for the image fade to black before carefully placing the pad down on the floor.

Zaeed lay down on his bed with his hands behind his head. Slowly a smile crept onto his face as he stared at the ceiling. Tensing his stomach muscles with his hands still behind his head, he strained to snatch a look in the direction of the hiding place where lay his last bottle of whiskey. Grinning with self-assurance and satisfaction he then let himself thud back down on the canvas and pillow: he didn't feel the need to fetch it anymore.

* * *

Author note:

"Egg'll get you pearls" is a nod to my favourite sci-fi novel series: The Chanur saga by C J Cherryh.


	7. Chapter 7 - Perfect Fit

~ Finding The Heart ~

Perfect Fit

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the intellectual property of Bioware, not mine.

WARNING: Rated for MA for future chapters. 16yrs+ readers only please. Foul language, adult concepts.

Author note: I've purposefully tried not to describe Shepard too much, after all, fans of Mass Effect will each have their own versions of Shepard, so I leave those parts up to your imagination.

* * *

Shepard had not heard about or spoken to Zaeed since he was last here in her cabin two nights ago whereupon leaving he'd declared - much to Shepard's bemusement – his intention to take her on 'a date'. Zaeed Massani – a man who thought on his feet, tended to 'act first, ask questions later' (or often not at all) – had first told her in no uncertain terms how sincerely he wanted to fuck her... Then promptly told her, in the following sentence no less, that he wanted to go 'on a date', _first_. Her mind boggled.

 _A date?!_

She might have expected that from Kaidan: the sort of sensible, cautious approach someone might adopt when they wanted to get to _know_ someone first, to check there was mutual attraction. You went on a _date_ to check that a potential partner wasn't a mental catastrophe in waiting. You went on a date as a means of working _up_ to making tentative physical contact, testing the waters for sexual attraction and permission to follow it through thereafter.

You didn't go on a date when your would-be 'date' had already thrown herself at you and the enthusiasm with which you'd responded to her passionate advances had sent the pair of you sprawling to the floor... At that point two people would _usually_ – as Garrus might say – skip the mental sparring of 'going on a date' and go straight for the 'tie-breaker' in the nearest available bed, closet or suitably thick (and skin-friendly) vegetation. That seemed far more Zaeed's style given his impetuous nature and after _that_ morning, surely he couldn't doubt he had permission to touch her let alone doubt her attraction towards him?

 _And I'm sure he's already figured out at least as much as I have that we're_ _both_ _mental catastrophes..._

Well whatever his reasoning, she was only glad she'd at least managed to broker shore leave for it. It was good that she'd got time off for all the crew although perhaps 'broker' wasn't quite the right word for the 'discussion' that had transpired. Shepard had told the Illusive Man that shore leave was going to be happening, when and where. _He_ suggested other ports. _She_ told him she was not interested in alternatives. _He_ started going on a rant about how he didn't bring her back to cause chaos to Cerberus operations and draw attention to the organisation in the heart of Alliance space. _She_ reminded him that she was exactly who she was supposed to be, who _he_ had wanted her to be, and that if he wanted to limit the damage shore leave was going to have on Cerberus' reputation and operations, he was going to cough up some safe zones for the crew to be let loose...

Eventually he supplied the necessary information. _That information might salve a few feelings in the Alliance brass when I turn myself in but something tells me that the moment he gave me that information, plans were being set in motion ready to remove every trace of Cerberus from those locations the instant we leave Sol system._ Shepard sighed and grumbled at the inward reminder that he might as well also be known as 'The Elusive Man' – for he always seemed to be one step ahead of everyone else and nobody hunting him ever seemed to be able to track him down.

She knew of course from the moment she blew up the Collector Base against his wishes that her relations with The Illusive Man and Cerberus were more than just a little frayed. From that point on it was clear that they were only co-operating with one another because neither of them had yet worked out how to be rid of the other without incurring heavy losses.

 _He_ wanted _his_ ship back – its construction was, after all, a sizeable investment for Cerberus that he (and likely Cerberus investors) would dearly like to retain. _She_ on the other hand was trying to get as much use out of the Normandy (which _she_ considered to be _Alliance_ property anyway since Cerberus stole the plans for the SSV upon which it was based), and as much use out of having a crew she could trust as possible for as long as possible. If in the process she could bleed funding from Cerberus whilst operating predominantly on her _own_ terms, it was more than worth the delay in turning herself in. Besides... she was still working out how to protect the crew when that time came. Evacuation was the sensible idea, but then there was EDI. There was no easy way for the AI to be 'evacuated' with the crew and even if that were possible, without EDI's help how could Shepard bring an empty Normandy into Alliance custody?

Shepard rubbed the back of her neck; her still having no answer to _that_ problem. But she was resolved not to think about it right now, for she was sure she could manage a few months more playing 'ally' to The Illusive Man and Anderson keeping the Alliance and Council off her back. Truthfully she was reluctant to relinquish watch over the galaxy to people with lesser convictions and familiarity with the Reaper threat. Hers was likely the only ship and crew in the galaxy in position to be both able to alert the galaxy of a Reaper incursion and able not to freeze in the shocked panic one might expect of anyone else seeing a Reaper the first time. Or perhaps it was selfishness that kept her out here amongst the stars, for being in control was something Shepard _needed_... It was in essence her freedom, and sitting helpless in a prison cell when the Reapers came was _not_ how she wanted to die second time round. _First time I died was better than that... At least I died having given it my best shot._

She shuddered at that last thought - shelved it in preference of the worries that her mind had been mulling over before it, then finally reminded herself it was not the time to worry about those things either. There would be time for those later, and more to the point: right now _she_ had time – time for herself, to spend this evening with Zaeed... Someone she'd never dream of sharing anything more than celebratory drink with. A pleasant surprise no doubt but once again as minds were always wont to do, she swapped one worry for another: _their date._

Things had been quiet, which only meant that she had nervously counted down the hours until, well... now. Hence the loops her mind had been doing over all the worries – small and large, near and far – that it could dredge up all afternoon; _their date_ being infinitely more frightening. There _had_ been a quick stop for Zaeed to collect something just as they dropped in at Sol system's edge, half an hour ago – that had been odd... It wasn't everyday that the moment EDI squeaked the ship's ID to Cerberus buoys hiding in the outer system that some automated message came through about an expected delivery. If Zaeed  hadn't quickly confirmed that it was indeed for him, she was well on the way to telling EDI to blow that so-called 'delivery' pod to pieces with Garrus' second favourite toy (the Thannix cannon coming second, of course, to his sniper rifle).

She had worriedly scanned each new report to land in her inbox over the course of the day fretting that maybe, just _maybe,_ Zaeed would retreat back into that bottle despite his promise. She fretted that maybe he was a weaker man than she imagined, or a strong person just too deeply scarred to struggle out of his darkness. She fondly remembered the evening they'd spent together, mending and re-painting ship models and she remembered the jokes and the laughter, the odd war-story exchange that accompanied each model, the bickering and the flirting... She remembered all those things, and she _hoped_ he would keep his promise. Hoped... that there may yet be more times like that to come. It had been a long while since she'd shared that kind of company. A very long while indeed.

She _had_ also worried that a certain _some_ body might have decided that Zaeed's donation of all his alcohol (now and forthcoming) wasn't good enough to forgive him for having been such an ass for the past month or so. Donnelly had a bit of a temper when somebody crossed a friend or person he respected – he'd been in trouble for that on more than one occasion serving with the Alliance. Well after Gardner cooked him haggis and got it _right_ the two became fast friends, so that little stunt Zaeed pulled in the mess-hall would not have gone unnoticed. Even so, to Shepard's pleasant surprise (and great suspicion), none of these things she worried about had come to pass. She instead found herself nervously waiting for some emergency to happen – half-wanting one in fact, just to take her mind off  waiting. She checked the time on her omnitool _again,_ caught herself at it, scolded herself, then sighed as she thought:

 _I suppose I only have myself to blame. If I hadn't decided so long ago that relationships of any kind were a bad idea then I might be well-practised at this enough not to be so damned anxious. I was less on-edge when that half-built human Reaper sprang to life for heaven's sake!_ _This_ _... is ridiculous._

Shepard's stomach was fit to tie itself in knots as she stopped herself from getting up to pace the floor (again). The shower hadn't helped much. It _had_ helped at the time, but afterwards... Well it was only _after_ she'd finished showering and started thinking about what she was going to _wear_ for this 'date', that she realised just how lacking her wardrobe really was. Sure, she'd been declared dead for two years, so whatever she had from back them was pretty much gone save a few items that Liara had told her she and Ash had picked out from the few bits she had stored away off-ship (she'd let Liara keep the N7 hoodie - she seemed to rather attached to it). The thought occurred to her however that her wardrobe really didn't look much different now from then - that was just who she was. She scanned through her options:

 _Cerberus uniform no. 1..._

 _Cerberus uniform no. 2..._

 _Oh! And of course: ...Cerberus uniform no. 3!_

She had more variety in armour components and colours than she had in clothing. Oh wait – there was a singular casual outfit she might have imagined wearing when slumming it around her parents' farm as a child. There was also _that dress –_ the one that Kasumi had bought for her to get her into Donovan Hock's party... Shepard pulled a face. She _hated_ that dress – it made her feel self-conscious and uncomfortable. _T_ he style might be the present fashion, but she really didn't think it suited her and she _hated_ things that restricted movement. And why was it that fashion not only prioritised itself over function but also over comfort?! She _hated_ the material of that 'dress', the seams, the tightness about her thighs... She remembered how she had nearly baked in the black monster on Bekenstein... It was surely not the right thing to wear to a 'night club'.

 _My armour is more comfortable... Could I get away with wearing that?!_

No. No armour. She was resigned to that. Worst case scenario though: she'd have to wear the black monster... Except Zaeed did say 'upper class kind of place' which probably meant 'formal', and Shepard thought that dress was patently not classy. Maybe her uniform wouldn't be so bad a choice after all..? _But the Cerberus logos..._ She grimaced. _I hope he picked somewhere in the safe zone to go eat..._ Shepard rubbed her head with her forearm, bit her lip and shook her head:

 _Oh crap... I'm in trouble._

Shepard didn't _do_ panic, but for just a moment she _had_ considered it. Instead she had simply cursed the wardrobe and snatched out the 'casual one' – at least she wouldn't bake in that and it dropped any visually obvious association with Cerberus. It wasn't smart but unless Zaeed's reaction told her it was completely unsuitable and that the _black monster_ was her only option; 'casual' it was. _Casual._ She commented sarcastically to herself, _I sure don't_ _feel_ _casual..._

The sound of the door chimed. "Who is it EDI?" – As if she didn't know. She'd checked her omnitool enough times to know what time it was.

"Zaeed Massani is here to see you Commander. Would you like me to let him in?"

 _No._ That was her first instinct. Looking for an alternative exit was the next. Shepard took a deep breath, trying to calm her thoughts and steady her nerves. She couldn't do much about the butterflies hatching in her stomach... Especially as it seemed that since the last time they'd hatched, they had mated and laid even more eggs... All she could do was to get on with it.

"Go ahead EDI let him in."

It was not the familiar sound of heavy boots that greeted her ears with his arrival... She nearly missed the fact that Zaeed had entered at all; his footfalls were so quiet. Standing up she turned to face him and was greeted by a sight that had her raising her brow with a quizzical smirk. Zaeed was in black pants and smart, glossy leather shoes that had been polished to a shine. What he wore above that she couldn't tell, for her eyes were quickly drawn to the large colourful bouquet of flowers he held to his chest.

"Wow." Shepard managed in surprise, then felt a little uncomfortable. Gifts _always_ made her feel uncomfortable these days. "I umn... wasn't expecting flowers." She tried to say cheerfully, noting his uncertainty at her reaction. "I _do_ appreciate the thought though. Thank you." She smiled curtly.

"I uh... Hope they're OK." He jerked a worried half-smile. Perhaps he could tell she wasn't entirely sure what to make of them.

She made an effort to broaden her smile, attempting to reassure him: "They're beautiful." That got a more hopeful smile from him as the corner of his mouth jerked upwards. Shepard scratched her head and looked around the room: "Hmm... Need to find something to put them in..." She had a vague memory of finding a vase in one of the drawers when she first came on board. Sure enough, she found it, along with some hydrogel powder. _The Illusive Man seems to think of everything doesn't he? Or maybe I have Miranda to thank for this..?_ Realising she'd got distracted she hurried: "Just give me a moment." She strolled into the bathroom, emptied the gel packet into the vase and poured in some water from the tap. She thought she maybe heard Zaeed try to say something over the din of gushing water but she couldn't make it out.

The thought did occur to her that if it hadn't been for her father's horticultural green fingers, she'd not have known the first thing about what to do when presented with a bouquet of flowers. She felt about as awkward receiving them as Zaeed apparently felt bringing them (if his expression was anything to go by), but she tried to appreciate the gesture. Anderson was probably the last person who gave her flowers... When he handed over the original Normandy to her command, she had walked into her new quarters to find a bouquet of flowers and a note. He was the closest thing she'd ever had to a dad for many years and they had been his last doting gift to her, celebrating her wings as it were. The note had read: _"She's all yours: make me proud."_

She smiled at that memory as she dried off the side and bottom of the vase with a towel. The powder quickly absorbed the water and turned into a thick, blue gel. Coming back, vase in hand, she eyed the coffee table – _that's the perfect place._ Setting the vase down on the table she asked: "Did you say something when I was filling this up? I couldn't hear with the water running."

Zaeed answered: "You shouldn't need to cut them again..." but his words fell on temporarily deaf ears as positioning the vase brought forth a sudden flood of long-forgotten childhood memories for Shepard. Many times she had done this as a child; placing a vase ready for flowers on their dining room table at the request of her father. _Spacers have a hard life_ – he would invariably say, shaking his head and tutting – _Nothing up there is as fresh or as beautiful as down here._

The beauty of things that grew in the soils of agricultural worlds, he often used to say – usually whenever she had showed any interest in 'space' or aliens – was rarely preserved in transit off-continent let alone off-world, even with today's freezing technology. It was true. It was the reason why most flowers and a lot of 'fresh food' bought and sold on stations were synthetic constructs grown in off-world labs or genetically modified, hardened species, that grew on partially-terraformed planetoids in frequented systems that had themselves no garden worlds to claim. How many times had she heard that lecture..? Too many times to count. She rolled her eyes then smiled sadly: _Oh dad... what would you think of me now?_

The sound of Zaeed shifting weight from one foot to the other brought her mind back to here and now. _Frozen flowers..._ She remembered then:  frozen flowers always needed to be cut again to better enable them to take up water, never being as fresh as the ones her father would collect from their farmlands or bought from local colony shops and markets. She looked up at the bouquet and tried to decide if she should do them now or do them later. _Well if the date goes 'well', cutting flowers will be the last thing on my mind..._ She smirked cheerfully at that thought and added: _Best do them now then!_

She whipped out a small knife from her belt and gestured for him to hand her the bouquet – _I don't want to make us late if he's booked a table, that's no way to start a date._ He obliged and held out the bouquet towards her. She was about to get to it, but then their scent hit her: "Oooo..!" She sniffed, barely believing the strength of their fragrance. "These smell... gorgeous!" – The surprise had her muttering to herself – "I've not caught a whiff of anything so potent since, well..." – as slowly the cogs in her head were turning: "...Not since before I left home and joined the Alliance..."

Then slowly it dawned on her: _These aren't synthetic. They're_ _real_ _... Real_ _Earth_ _flowers no less!_

Pocketing the knife she took the bouquet nervously in both her hands like some prized Asari jewel as she pulled them towards her and breathed in deeply. She was awestruck to have a little piece of humanity's homeworld in her cabin – something alive that didn't walk in on its own two feet. Earth had been her parent's birthplace, not her own, but 'homeworld' still meant something profound to her: many of the plants and animals she'd grown up with had once upon a time originated from _Earth_.

Earth seemed to mean more to Shepard as time went by, but maybe that was because she longed for real things, things un-tampered with by technology but homely to her own biology, like the great biomes of Earth where still remained the ecosystems from which humanity first arose. Lately Shepard had grown to consider _herself_ synthetic, unnatural, artificial. H _ow could anyone come back from the dead and not be..?_ It was there that her longing began. The more upgrades she'd taken, the more she longed to surround herself with natural things, _real_ things.

She embraced the joy that the sight and smell of these little pieces of Earth brought her. These flowers were truly a special gift, although she doubted Zaeed knew or understood the personal significance they held to her. Nonetheless, she had to admit it: he had impressed her. Zaeed had caught at least that much as a little, satisfied smile began to spread across his face. Fishing the knife back out of her pocket she used it to undo the packaging, spotting the card that had come with them in the process. She politely spared a moment in her enthusiasm to read it:

 _"Hand-picked by:_ _Emma_

 _At:_ _Arboritum Island, South Pacific, Earth_

 _Time:_ _15:16 h_

 _~ Shipped by Lightspeed Deliveries ~_

 _For the pleasure of:_ _the woman who turns my life upside down on a regular basis, with compliments, Zaeed_ _."_

She smiled at the dedication then frowned with confusion: _Wait a minute..._ The date on the back of the card was  today's date. The realisation then hit her: _These aren't just from Earth, they're_ _fresh_ _!_ Further astounded, she began to unwrap them, suddenly keen to investigate each and every one. She recognised the breeds and species – remembering lessons her father gave her. She could hardly forget those - he wouldn't even let her do her school homework without learning what he had to teach her _first_.

Four roses – white, red, black and blue – with the latter obviously genetically engineered and glowing just a little in the slight UV output of the lights for the fish tank. There were some tulips... Two dark indigo-purple ones (engineered), a couple of rich red ones, a few heavily frilled yellow and white ones (selective breeding in tulips had been done for many centuries). There were a larger number of fresias - Cerberus orange, violet, and yellow. There was one each of various colours of carnations present, along with four orchids. The two deep blue and yellow orchids she recognised – they were a species that had been around a very long time. The other two were presumably genetically engineered but nonetheless beautiful; shaded in blues from Arctic to tropical seas.

It was the fresias and roses, then, that were the most responsible for producing the glorious fragrance that wafted up from them. Laying all of them out on the table, Shepard then realised what Zaeed had tried to say to her before: _You_ _shouldn't_ _need to cut them again._ Why? Because they were  that damned fresh.

"How..?!" She began in disbelief: " _Where_ did you get these from?!" She mumbled.

"Oh just this little place I know on Earth. Got a friend who works in an arboretum – she grows these as a hobby." Zaeed shrugged and grinned. Shepard was too busy switching her stare back and forth between the card and the flowers to notice.

"And how the hell did they get here so fast?!" She asked incredulously, her eyes locked onto the flowers.

Another shrug: "I know a guy who hobbies in unmanned drones, partners with a courier who does light speed deliveries around the system. Not particularly legal but they get the job done."

"It says... these were picked today." She checked the card again just to be sure then murmured with disbelief: "A few hours ago in fact..." Zaeed said nothing. She began putting them into the vase. She couldn't help but frown when she asked: "Do I even want to _know_ how much these cost?"

"Does it matter? Spend a little cash, buy a pretty lady some flowers. No big deal." He shrugged and the grin faded to a fragile smile.

"But this must've cost... I can't even imagine how much..." She shook her head and sighed, circling the table to swap the positions of different flowers and fiddle them into order. "Look," She said without looking at him; "I just don't want you to think I expect this kind of expense on my account..."

It was instinct: _every_ body seemed to be trying to buy her off in some way as of late. The Illusive Man tried to buy her loyalty with a ship, a crew, and a mission she could sink her teeth into. The Council had tried to bribe her into staying out of Citadel space by reinstating her SpecTRe status. Shepard had a sneaking suspicion that if Harbinger could have _bought_ from her a guaranteed delivery of her body and soul for some future date, then it would have paid better than the Devil himself... She was about to launch into an explanation when Zaeed cut her off:

"You forgetting something? I'm a rich man, Shepard. All those years spent as a bounty hunter..? The massive pay packet Cerberus gave me for joining your little crusade..? Only so much money a man can piss away on booze, top notch weapons, customised armour and pleasurable company."

She turned around to face him with a troubled expression. "But still..." She tried to argue, but he was having none of it:

"No buts."

Shepard frowned and let it go, partly to save his pride and partly due to distraction, her eyes having been drawn to Zaeed's unfamiliar form as he stood before her. Her eyes scanned up his body from his shoes to his shoulders. She'd never glimpsed him out of armour before, save a few days ago and that was only the top half of him – grubby, cold and sweaty. He was presently wearing an extremely well-fitted Nehru suit and bowler hat... She visually appreciated the way the jacket followed the slope of his shoulders then, falling off his chest, tucked in just below his ribs in a handsome cut. _Damn_ _,_ she thought, _he looks_ _good_ _in that..._

He wore what was surely a real-silk waistcoat, exquisitely embroidered with silver and black intricate geometric patterns – _Arabic maybe..? Some reference to his family history?_ She didn't even recognise the style of shirt and tie at all, but the walking cane he now held to his chest (ornately decorated with a silver dragon of some sorts) reminded her of something very old indeed... and the words 'traditional English gentleman' sprung to mind. She began looking him up and down a second time. He raised an eyebrow as he watched her do this, and slowly the last of his nervousness diminished with her evident approval. A smug smile crept over his face as he noted the fact that she indeed seemed to _like_ what she was seeing.

After she'd done gawping of course, the dissonance of his attire when matched against her own struck Shepard down with extreme embarrassment. "Oh... Oh! Damn it..." She exclaimed with dismay:"Suddenly I feel very under-dressed..." and followed that up with a grimace and an apology. "Um... I'm afraid I don't really have much else to wear..." She shook her head apologetically as she admitted: "Certainly nothing that would match what you're wearing," – she waved at his attire – "...Except my uniform and _that_ has Cerberus logos all over it. I do have a dress..." _A_ _singular __dress_ _!_ _Pray he didn't catch that!_ "But it's not..."

"That's quite alright." Zaeed interjected with a raised hand and a slight shake of his head, having tucked the cane under his arm. He smiled cheerfully and pulled his other arm from behind his back. "Figured you might not have much that would suit where I want to take you anyway – it's an _unusual_ place – so I brought you something." He held out the silver-grey box he'd been hiding, tied with a red satin ribbon. Shepard looked at him questioningly as she took it from his hands.

"Another gift?" She frowned: "What is it?" She asked, deeply suspicious. _How many credits_ _have_ _you spent on me exactly?_ That was what she _wanted_ to ask but she held her tongue. Truth be told, part of her didn't want to know...

"Take it into the bathroom and see for yourself." He shrugged.

Shepard's mouth opened and shut against further question as she decided, reluctantly, to do as he suggested. There was clearly no arguing about this unless she wanted to insult him. Nonetheless, she might yet have words to say about this, later. As the door whooshed shut behind her she undid the ribbon and lifted the lid: _Oh god. It's a dress..._ She gulped and a wave of cold fear washed over her and left her pale. Her fingers touched it gingerly at first – _it's_ _satin..._ – then more eagerly for it was inescapably luxurious to touch and she'd never felt anything like it. She tossed the box aside as she lifted the garment clear. _My god..._ It was ankle-length – a grey-silver dress, all the same material. She hesitated; she'd  never worn a dress like _this_.

She felt incredibly self-conscious just at the thought of wearing it, and was within half a breath of taking it back to Zaeed but the man had clearly gone to a _lot_ of effort to make this evening a memorable occasion. _And who knows when our next shore leave would be_? Or if shit hit the fan, who knew if she would even  get another shore leave, before the next time she died? _No... One night. I can have one night where I let myself forget who I am and all that lies on my shoulders. Besides wasn't I just a minute ago complaining about the awfully unpleasant materials that fashion leans to these days? This thing feels luxurious... and it'd be rude to refuse a gift..._

The thought also occurred to her that she had a feeling he'd bought this dress as much for himself as for her. To be fair, she'd yanked him far enough out of his own comfort zone. It made sense he be allowed to do the same to her. A smirk spread across her face as she looked at herself in the mirror.

 _Be honest: you want to know what kind of reaction you're going to get from him when you walk out wearing this, don't you?_

"Give me a minute I'm going to try it on." She shouted and rushed to strip off her clothes and boots, tossing her current outfit into a (reasonably neat) pile on the floor. She slipped the dress over her head and it fell... perfectly into place... _Oh my god he's good. This thing fits like it was tailored to me._ Looking in the mirror she could see how well it fit. The satin rumpled slightly around a low neck which curved upwards up to where the dress was held at her shoulders. The back of the dress fell all the way down to her lower back. She felt blood rush to her cheeks as she turned and realised her underwear were showing. "Ah. Huhm..." She exclaimed.

"Is it alright?" She heard Zaeed yell in concern.

"Umn... Yeah!" She shouted back, _Oh well..._ She hitched up the dress as she spoke, "It... fits very well!" Off came the plain, dull-white panties, and the dress slid back down her body into place, now a _completely_ perfect fit with that fractional reduction in the size of her hips. She'd expected the bra would be a no-no, but she felt more than a little naked wearing nothing but the dress itself... Especially as it had two long splits up the sides. _Well..._ She inwardly laughed at the irony: _I_ _was_ _complaining about fashionable fancy clothes always restricting movement wasn't I? Could definitely kick someone in the face while wearing this, they might even stand still while I do it too, when they realise I've got no knickers on..._ She stared at herself in the mirror with dismay.

Thankfully even though the splits came all the way up to her hips, a red Asari silk ribbon was laced many times from there down to the top of her thigh. The ribbons, although they had the texture of satin, stretched easily – making it comfortable enough to move around, and presumably sit, whilst still keeping the dress snug to her figure. Lower down the threads of the ribbon were laced gradually further and further apart, gaping to reveal her legs as she moved until they reached midway down her thighs. There they were tied off with a moderately sized bow, with nearly two feet long ends that dangled idly to the base of her calves.

Shepard noticed that two more such red ribbon laced in similar fashion across her back. One crossed over her shoulder blades pulling the dress together towards the top of the shoulder straps so they didn't fall down, crisscrossing down to tie where a bra would otherwise clasp, bringing the dress in snugly under her bust. Another crisscrossed further down and was perfectly placed to ensure a snug fit around her waist so that the dress wouldn't fall forwards if she bent over. She guessed both were meant to be finished with a bow as was done at her thighs. They too had lengths long enough to have tails that would dangle.

Struggling a little, she tied them. The one about her waist she thought was fine but... _Damn it I can't see what I'm doing with the other one!_ She turned to the mirror, trying to see if she'd got the one at her shoulders lopsided... She had. She undid it again. Re-tied. _Nope – still not right!_ Eventually realising the task was taking _far_ too much time, she admitted defeat and decided reluctantly that the best thing to do was to ask for help. Stepping out of the bathroom still trying to turn her head over her shoulder she grumbled, fussing with the ribbons: "It's fine but I just can't get these ribbons tied straight... Can you..?" She was about to ask for assistance, but stopped mid-sentence when she saw the look on his face.

Zaeed's draw had dropped and he was looking her up and down over, and over, and over. _Touché..._ He swallowed hard. "God. _Damn_. Fuck.  Me..." He almost stuttered as he spoke... Shepard smiled sheepishly and laughed nervously as he added with raised eyebrows, leaning back against the fish tank to cross his arms and legs. _All the better for the view._ "No. Seriously:  Fuck me. Forget dinner. Just fuck me. In that." He cocked his head on one side as his eyes glided up and down the sight of her again, " _Please_." There was a tone in his voice as he said 'please' that sent shivers up her spine and brought her out in goose pimples all over. Shepard bit her lower lip and dropped her eyes with embarrassment as she smiled, but that only made him want her more.

 _Good_ _God_ _this woman cleans up good!_ He thought to himself. Trying to contain his imagination he clasped the bridge of his nose and shook his head with a grimace, hoping – hoping for what exactly? That he'd look again and she'd not be so goddamn fuck-worthy? Snowball in Hell's chance of that mate. This damn image of her was going to be imprinted on the inside of his skull for all eternity. He was sure of that. Nothing in his imagination had prepared him for this sight, not even armed with those exact measurements he'd got from Legion. But those exact measurements were at least good for something: that dress was a  perfect fit.

"Well... I'll be damned... I guess this means I should actually _thank_ that bucket of bolts..." He muttered quietly, unashamedly taking another sweeping look of her. _Hell I might have to buy the sodding Geth a couple of cans of WD40..._ Zaeed took a deep breath, and let it go with a groan: _C'mon man pull yourself together... you got her that dress for a reason._ His mind jumped to thoughts of bending her over that table and running his hands down her thighs... But he stopped himself: _Yes_ _that_ _reason too... but something else is suppose to happen first, remember? Bloody well get on with it!_ He tried to focus: "Sorry... what was it you were saying?"

Shepard blinked for a moment, taking in the sudden change of subject and back again. "I uh... I can't get these ribbons to tie straight. I was um... wondering if you'd mind giving me a hand." She asked bashfully.

Zaeed dragged his eyes up to meet hers and firmly kept them there, managing then to say nonchalantly: "Sure. Turn around." After a slight, nervous hesitation, she did so. Quickly uncrossing his legs he swiftly jerked his erection from 'tent pole poking left trouser leg' to 'vertical and pray that it's less obvious that way', pinning it down with his trousers and boxers. Somehow he awkwardly managed to do this one-handed without shoving his hands down his trousers. He cleared his throat to cover the work then stepped forwards. "Hang on a sec," he said, taking the first two threads which came from either side of just below her armpits. He tightened them and then tied them together in a bow. "That too tight?" He asked, catching a whiff of her hair as she fidgeted, testing the fit. _Fuck_ _me_ _... She even_ _smells_ _good too..._

"No, no. It's fine." Flinching her head to her right shoulder as she answered, she quickly turned back her gaze afterward. "Is the lower one OK?"

"Humn..." Zaeed tried to turn the groan he wanted to make into a sigh of contemplation. "Looks a bit lopsided but it's alright."

Shepard cursed and undid it herself, which was not an easy thing to watch. _Bugger..._ He thought to himself, _If I get any harder my balls are gonna start aching..._ He accidentally touched his knuckle to the left of her spine as he collected the ribbon from that side just below her ribs and Shepard jumped.

"Hey... Hold still." He cooed, and revelled in another whiff of her hair. There was a slight scent of whatever she'd washed with, but... _No perfume_? He was sure of it. _Just raw woman..? Fuck me..._ He almost wept for wanting.

"Sorry..." Shepard cleared her throat. "Not used to wearing things like this..." She mumbled. The ribbon tickled her as he tied the knot but she tried very hard not to flinch. She didn't even know she was so sensitive around there. Maybe it was just the situation and his proximity – every inch of her felt as if her skin were supersensitive to the slightest touch or movement of air. Zaeed, finished with the bow, lingered for another quick whiff, then accidentally drew his knuckle down her spine as his fingers followed the dangling threads of ribbon. Shepard, who had barely breathed through this, took a sudden sharp breath and jumped again.

"Mm..." Zaeed commented, hesitating for just a moment before clearing his throat again and stepping backwards – something that he noted took a heck of a lot of effort: Having stood close enough to feel the heat of her body he really hadn't wanted to move... but he'd managed it.

"There. Done."

"Thanks." Shepard turned around and smiled shyly, trying ever so hard to not stare at the floor or elsewhere. She pointlessly looked over her shoulder and twisted in an attempt to see his work before giving up. "Definitely not lopsided?"

Zaeed shook his head and scrunched his lips, "Definitely not lopsided." He smirked then - it was cute watching her try to chase her own tail.

"Ah shit..." Shepard stopped and stared at her feet and cringing with dismay at her own oversight. "I've just realised: I don't have _anything_ that would match this dress in terms of footwear." She grimaced with despair. "Damn it... I'm sorry..." _I'm_ _really_ _sorry..._ She was about to say when Zaeed butted in:

"And that would be why I _also_ gotcha _these_." Zaeed said, reaching inside his suit jacket. He pulled out from an inside pocket on each side a dainty grey-silver, open-toed slipper with a slight (block) heel and red satin fastening, styled after the fashion of the dress. Shepard didn't have to hide her surprise.

"You seem to have thought of everything." She grinned with bewilderment, taking them from his hand. Placing the right one on the coffee table she took the left one, lifted her knee and pulled it on. It fit well. Looking at it she was truly grateful that it actually had some decent padding to it – the designer had not sacrificed comfort for beauty. She tallied that mark for Zaeed, for she was now pretty sure that he hadn't just _picked_ this dress: it was _made_ for her at his request. It was likely he who had thought of such details. Either he knew her better than she thought he did or he had sensibly asked himself what _he_ would want were he the one to wear this outfit. _That's not an image I want in my head..._ She laughed at the thought but turned it into a more general laugh at the entire situation.

Meanwhile unbeknownst to her, Zaeed was damn near drooling over the flash of leg he'd just received. As could be expected she was in very good shape, and her calf muscles were really quite something from all that sprinting... Next she lifted her leg to place her foot on the coffee table, doing up the small buckle. Zaeed had to stop himself from groaning lustfully as his eyes followed up from her ankle to a muscular, well-toned thigh – toned from years of darting into cover and springing up out of it no doubt... _Mary mother of Mercy I've got to last a whole night with her looking like this... And fucking_ _hell_ _: she's got to do the other shoe yet..!_

The shoes, like the dress, were a perfect fit of course. In the back of her mind Shepard wanted to know _where_ he'd got such good measurements from. She swore she'd heard him mutter something about 'bucket of bolts' just before, heaven knows what that meant. EDI perhaps? EDI would certainly have had the processing power and the inside intel to be able to work out the bones of a design like this. Shepard vowed to have words with the AI later... She started putting the right shoe on, this time just skipping straight to resting her foot on the coffee table. She got an extra delicious whiff of the flowers that way as she bent down. Zaeed, unbeknownst to her, continued to stare longingly at the inside of her leg now on display like a hungry varren. He was certain this could be classed as a form of torture. Torture he'd happily endure but torture nonetheless. As she finished and turned around he quickly changed his expression to one of gentlemanly etiquette and asked:

"Happy? Ready?"

"Yes. I guess so." She had kept her omnitool bracelet on but still felt naked without a single knife or gun nor anywhere to hide them. _Nor any underwear..!_ She tried to forget that last thought else she'd blush for sure. There really was nowhere to hide _anything_ in this dress. Not without sticky tape, and the subsequently painful hair-loss when that tape had to come off. Nope. She was as naked as she could be, with no underwear and no weapon hidden anywhere on her person. _Might as well_ _be_ _naked..._ She thought to herself, and on second thought: _Don't make that remark: he might take it seriously!_

"Let's go then." Zaeed huffed as he turned towards the door. In his left hand he held his black walking cane, the silver dragon wrapping itself around the upper few inches of the shaft. Twisting to face her he offered his right arm to Shepard with a beckoning sideways tilt of his head. Slowly she made the step up to the fish tank following him, walking around to take the offer and allow herself to be led. Her cabin door whooshed open. She took an apprehensive deep breath before stepping through and thought to herself:

 _This_ _... could be quite a night..._


	8. Chapter 8 - Trust

~ Finding The Heart ~

Trust

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the intellectual property of Bioware, not mine.

WARNING: Rated for MA for future chapters. 16yrs+ readers only please. Foul language, adult concepts.

Author note: I've purposefully tried not to describe Shepard too much, after all, fans of Mass Effect will each have their own versions of Shepard, so I leave those parts up to your imagination.

* * *

Most of the crew taking shore leave on Earth had already left. Shepard and Zaeed were among the last to go, leaving the Normandy in the hands of a well-trained few. Samara had elected to abstain, instead proposing that if Shepard were available some other time when less was at stake, the pair of them could visit Earth and Shepard introduce her to the human homeworld herself. _"My code is your code, Shepard. I would feel more confident in behaving accordingly if I had your guidance and company."_ Shepard didn't have the heart to tell Samara that she actually didn't know much more about Earth than she did.

Joker had declared that he was not going anywhere for at least 24 hrs. _"Oh I just want to be here to take pictures when you all drag yourselves back onboard."_ Most if not all of the crew would have to or would prefer to return to the Normandy upon completion of their nocturnal activities and he was not about to miss a golden opportunity for piss-taking. It _was,_ of course, entirely possible he was getting unnaturally attached to EDI and felt bad at the thought of leaving her behind... Shepard shook her head at that thought but couldn't help smiling. _Unrequited love..? Not quite. He's at peace with all that she is, it would be insulting to suggest otherwise._ But it was still sweet, funny and sad, all at the same time.

Garrus had vowed to stay behind: " _I want to be sure there's going to be at least_ _one_ _person onboard who could take command if needs be; someone_ _who'll look out for the galaxy's, the crew's and_ _your_ _best interests while they're at it."_ – said in his usual cocky-as-ever tone and evident unwavering suspicion of Miranda and her leadership abilities. Shepard had smiled at that: at the cool calm with which he delivered those words. She was more than a little proud.

Garrus had come a long way from being the impetuous Turian hot-head he used to be when he would follow her around like a puppy dog, back when they were hunting Saren... He'd finally reached a point where she trusted him to act in her stead, and she now deeply valued his opinions and advice whenever he offered them. He and Tali remained the _only_ members of her old squad who'd returned to stand by her side, having done so despite their reservations about Cerberus and solely because of their trust in and loyalty to _her_. Shepard owed them much, for that.

 _Of course it's possible he was simply trying to save me trouble_ , Shepard reflected with a pang of guilt for the almost Krogan-rivalling capacity humans had of being able to hold an indiscriminate grudge for multiple generations. She recalled the long trail of shitty assignments that Ashley had endured before being assigned to the Normandy just because of her grandfather's involvement in the surrender of Shanxi. _Truth be told the First Contact War is still reasonably well-remembered in Sol System_ , _and a Turian on the human homeworld would certainly draw eyes, if not trouble from low-life scum looking for an excuse to pick a fight... A fight that Garrus would of course likely finish._

Actually, _all_ non-human crew had stayed behind, likely for similar eye-catching reasons, although some like Thane whose son who was still conducting community service on the Citadel, had interests in other ports anyway. The same was true of a number of the human crew too, several of whom having their friends and families dispersed among the colonies. _I'll have to find a way to get a second shore leave in where I can drop people off at different places..._ But that would leave the Normandy awfully vulnerable and that thought prompted another:

There were also one or two of the human crew, who _did_ have friends and family in Sol system, who it seemed just didn't know how to face going home... Not after having been taken by the Collectors. Shepard endured a sharp pain of guilt every time she remembered the mission that had her entire squad leaving the Normandy that fateful day... And on this most frivolous and selfish of all occasions she retained no small amount of worry and guilt over the prospect of leaving the Normandy. She was glad only that some very combat-capable hands were staying behind.

Shepard's idling mind jumped through all these hoops in the time it took for the lift to ride down to the hangar deck. She was _looking_ for excuses... Reasons why she might ultimately say she shouldn't go. Yet even the burdens of being the great Commander Shepard couldn't distract her from the real reason of her most present discomfort: her outfit.

 _I'm being worn on his arm like a trophy, a_ _nd that is_ _blatantly_ _what this looks like, isn't it?_

Her mood darkened furthermore. She every connotation of this present scenario. There was also the fact that in a very short time the lift doors would open and everyone on the _ship_ would know about her and Zaeed. _I suppose it was naive of me to hope to keep it quiet until we knew where we stood and where we were going with this._ Then with another sinking realisation: _Gods and goddesses: And_ _Joker_ _is going to be piloting the damn shuttle!_

If everything else hadn't been enough, that alone was enough to make her balk. Shepard scowled and contemplated calling the whole thing off. Clearly she hadn't thought this through. Getting her into this dress in the first place was a feat of unimaginable odds and it was only thanks to Zaeed's apparent skill for mentally throwing her off-balance enough to stop her mind from _thinking_ , that he'd managed it at all. Feeing manipulated made her scowl all the harder.

She looked up to Zaeed and he threw her back this smile: brimful of pride for just a moment until he caught her flaring anger. But then... With not a word said... He responded. First of all there was a sober tilt of his head – frown absent – then he gave a slight half-lidded bow of his head in her direction. That was respect. He paused in that bow then lifted his head – eyes first – to level with hers. That was deferral to her authority. He looked her in the eyes and then smiled softly, just enough for her to tell. That was humility. Before she knew it, instinct had banished the frown from her expression, leaving only peripheral worry, then a slight smile warily crept onto her face. _He knows_ – was what her instincts told her – _he knows what I was thinking and he respectfully knows damn well what he's asking of me._

With that subtle display he honoured her having given him this control over her, control that he knew she did not have to give, nor should she ever feel she had to. _I wonder..._ Shepard's disgruntlement faded to curiosity. _Look._ She told herself: _You got yourself into this; you're going to have to go along with it. It's not like you can pretend these feelings for him are going to just go away._ And added because she was still feeling the apprehension of privacy being thrown out of the waste chute: _Do you_ _really_ _care who knows?_

Shepard took a deep breath and let it go, trying to shift her mind onto other topics: "I just hope nobody where we're going has a bone to pick with 'The Great Commander Shepard'..." She commented under her breath: "I feel completely naked without even a pistol at my side or a knife in my shoes..."

"Where we're going it's dangerous to stir up trouble regardless where you hail from." Zaeed slid her a sly smile then shrugged: "Besides, can't spend the whole of the rest of your life cooped up on this ship. If trouble finds us we can handle ourselves pretty well, you and me." He winked at her with half a nod and patted her hand. Seeing she wasn't swayed he raised an eyebrow and added: "If it's any consolation this cane is more useful than it looks." Zaeed showed how with a twist and a press the silver dragon that topped the cane became a pistol and the shaft was full of heat sinks. "I also have a few small hardened-composite blades in my belt and pockets. I never go _anywhere_ unprepared. You're not the only one used to expecting enemies you know."

"O... K..." Shepard smiled, a little relieved and pleasantly surprised by his resourcefulness. "But I still have nothing." The frown was back.

Zaeed shrugged. "You have me." He almost looked serious, and Shepard was just starting to scowl and open her mouth in indignation when he laughed. "Not that I think you need me." He chuckled, "I've seen you in action – you don't need the help. I'm pretty sure you were unstoppable before I met you, but add all those Cerberus upgrades I hear you have and I'd pit you against Miranda any day any place any time and bet _she'd_ be the looser."

"You seem to have a lot of confidence in me." She looked at him sceptically.

"I told you I wouldn't have anyone close to me who couldn't single-handedly take on twenty armed men and I bloody meant it." _Notice where you're standing_ – his expression seemed add. Shepard acknowledged the flattery with a smile. She was used to considering _him_ as an unlikely relationship candidate because _he_ didn't match up to _her_ expectations. After all, morally there were no higher standards than Shepard's for someone to meet. But the thought hadn't really occurred to her that Zaeed might be in any way picky about women. She rather thought he'd probably screw anyone given an open invitation. _Apparently I was wrong about that._

Shepard stretched her shoulders and her neck and tried to clear her mind as the lift opened. Stepping out together, voices in the hangar startled her and she halted; her fingers tightened around Zaeed's bicep and dug into it through the material of his suit jacket. She had not expected anyone to be in there on their way through.

"Huh." Zaeed commented as he felt that, smirked and stood up a little straighter.

Her eyes spotted several bodies and faces. _Great. Just great. 'A crowd' is just what I need._ Faces gawked. Smiles began to appear on a few of them as folks stood aside for the couple to pass. She glared at each and every one:

"Quite a gathering you've got here." Shepard commented dryly, but it didn't make any of them disperse. Her cheeks now turning rosy, she squinted her eyes at them. "If you are staying on duty tonight, I strongly suggest you look busy: I can think of plenty more jobs to add to your lists if you've run out of things to do..." It took them several moments to register what she'd said before clearing their throats and trying to look like they were all busily on their way somewhere else. They were as shocked to see Commander Shepard wearing such a dress as Commander Shepard was to find herself wearing it, it seemed. But why any of them were present to _see_ it was a matter she'd very much like to discuss with whoever was responsible.

Of course, as she and Zaeed passed by those that hadn't managed to scatter in the opposite direction she just _knew_ they were each turning around to take a look. _Fine – you want a show I'll give you one!_ She purposefully grinned her most sinister grin at them over her shoulder then leaned into Zaeed, knocking her hips against him as she swaggered – an action he noted and appreciated with a sly smirk of his own.

He switched his cane to the hand of the arm through which Shepard had hers as he turned a devilish grin toward them over his own shoulder. He nodded, finger and thumb of his now free hand to the brim of his hat as cleared his throat at them. The sound of scuttling boots behind them quickly followed when he did that, as did the sound of the elevator doors opening and after a pause in which all much have crammed themselves into it, closed. Winking at Shepard as he faced forwards again, he took back the cane into his free hand, tapping it along the decking in lazy rhythm to their footsteps.

As they turned the corner to the shuttle bay however, Shepard's grin quickly faded. She could hear the voice of the one man that would make sure that this occasion, particularly with note to her attire, would be a part of daily comments for years to come. _Goddess..._ _Here we go..._

"NOT. ONE. WORD." She said sharply as Joker began to open his mouth. But his grin was all she needed to see for her to want to shrivel up into a tiny ball and disappear. He chuckled quietly, shook his head then quickly cleared his throat before speaking in the most posh accent he could muster:

"As you wish. I will be your driver tonight ma-am; may I enquire as to your destination?"

 _If I hit him I'll crack his skull._

 _If I hit him Dr Chakwas will yell at me._

 _If I hit him I'll have paperwork enough to confound a Volus lawyer._

"London." Thankfully Zaeed intervened: "Little place called 'Moon Over Rat Pack' – I'll give you directions once we reach the city." He tapped Shepard's hand before she could think of something threatening to say to Joker. Joker bowed courteously (well as courteously as he could without breaking a bone), to which Shepard rolled her eyes and shook her head. Meanwhile Zaeed was grinning like an idiot as he ushered her into the shuttle – something he quickly stopped when she turned her eyes and glared at _him_ with a mind to strike him for it.

Shepard turned to face Joker - the suspicion suddenly hit her that _he_ might have had something to do with that crowd. _Someone_ had determined what was in that box that Zaeed bought Shepard. _Someone_ had determined that it was for Shepard when he carried it up to her quarters a little while ago. Or _someone_ had figured out already that something might be going on between them. She had her suspicions. She knew Kelly, Kasumi and Joker were equally likely suspects but which one she wasn't going to get to ask about until later it seemed, as opening her mouth to ask Joker, he promptly closed the shuttle door behind them. Zaeed meanwhile gracefully removed his hat with a twist and set it on his lap as he sat down next to her.

Now that she was sitting in the back of the shuttle Shepard suddenly realised she had no idea how to _sit_ in this thing. 'Legs apart in casual ease' was _not_ going to do. She crossed her legs - thigh closest to him over opposing knee - and got a raised brow and a smirk from Zaeed. She immediately uncrossed them and held her knees together, looking and feeling thoroughly awkward. He nearly laughed. _She_ very nearly barked: _"Well how else am I supposed to sit in this thing?!"_ Instead she just sighed and shook her head as she crossed her legs again, this time towards him and folded her arms in irritation. Trying then to speak quietly enough to Zaeed so as not to be heard by their eavesdropping pilot, she scolded him quietly:

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?!"

"Every bloody minute of it, mark my words." He nodded, and chuckled. "I should ask Joker for photos when we get back..." he added quietly, and Shepard dug her elbow into his ribs, prompting a satisfyingly pained "Oof!" from him.

"Do that and I'll space both of you." She glared at him as the shuttle lurched (less lurching than usual) into motion, and set out on their course to Earth. "What kind of a name for a place is ' _Moon Over Rat Pack'_ anyway..?"


	9. Chapter 9 - Moon Over Rat Pack

~ Finding The Heart ~

Moon Over Rat Pack

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the intellectual property of Bioware, not mine.

WARNING: Rated for MA for future chapters. 16yrs+ readers only please. Foul language, adult concepts.

Author note: I've purposefully tried not to describe Shepard too much, after all, fans of Mass Effect will each have their own versions of Shepard, so I leave those parts up to your imagination.

* * *

Upon arrival Joker gently set the shuttle down with not even a bump, purposefully showing off _just_ how gracefully skilled he _really_ could be when he wasn't having to try to dodge projectiles, laser blasts or flying debris. He treated his passengers like they were Hanar coralcrystal ornaments missing their packaging. "Be sure to call me when you are ready to leave, m'lady." He yelled in a faux-posh accent, having of course safely locked the pilot's compartment beforehand. Shepard nonetheless thought of an adequate response to his teasing: she thumped the blacked out window between them hard enough for it to rock the Kodiak and there was silence after that.

Her mind then drifted to the next task at hand. _This dress was_ _not_ _made for moving around in..._ She carefully watched her step as she hunched down to make it under the shuttle's doorframe, trying not to let it drag on the floor. _Well that's not entirely true... it actually allows for flawless movement if required – I have to give it credit for that – but that's really only going to apply once I'm in a situation where I no longer care about keeping it_ _clean_ _..._ Puzzling about how she might make the step down without a splash from the wet pavement she paused, holding her dress out of the way in preparation.

She was gingerly about to make the step down when a hand appeared in front of her. She looked up. Handsomely serious, Zaeed only raised an eyebrow as he made the offer. Shepard, disgruntled, reluctantly took it. Placing her hand in his, she allowed herself to be _helped_ down gently onto the slick and shiny pavement. She stepped out into a grey world smelling of wet concrete and _brick_ – unfamiliar smells to a non-Earther - while a light colourless drizzle was falling, making the pavements and rooftops sparkle in the dim evening light. Zaeed laughed and exclaimed as if with experience:

"Typical goddamn English weather..." Then, grinning upwards at the sky, he raised a brow with a sideways glance at Shepard. "It's supposed to be bloody summer!" Another laugh.

"Uh-huh." Shepard smiled back disbelievingly, but it was warm enough for the time of day for her to know he could be telling the truth. Mindoir's climate was supposed to be similar to that of Earth's and she had lived in the temperate zone, and that's where London was. She knew _that_ at least. She'd had to write it out in lines for homework once because she kept forgetting and instead thinking it was the capital of an island nation just off the coast of a larger landmass that had a country called 'Australia' on it. For some reason her brain liked the sound 'Aust', so she always remembered 'Australia', always remembered 'Austria', but often got the two mixed up and therefore where _everything_ was on Earth. _Let's hope if I'm ever back here I don't have to try to navigate anywhere else but London!_

Zaeed offered his arm for her to hold as he had done before on the Normandy and she obliged. He quickly led her towards the odd-looking venue that was to be the setting of this occasion; their 'first date'. Couples queued up outside, waiting to get in at the steps. Shepard was about to stop at the rear of the queue but a tap on her hand told her she needed to keep moving as Zaeed led her straight through the crowd like he owned the place, sparing only a nod for the security on the way. _That was odd..._

Entering the club they were met by the coarse sound of a peculiar kind of music. A brass trumpet was playing amid a lazy beat, easy piano and double bass improvisations. _Jazz!_ Or at least that's what she thought it might be. _No I'm sure it is..._ It was a decidedly human style of music and uniquely so, according to her old music lessons as a small child. Clearly this was no ordinary club – she'd never known of a place that played _this_ kind of music. Shepard was a child of the electronic beats and the synthesised sounds of modern multiracial dance music, complete with alien rhythms, melodies and instruments, mixed in with human ones. More and more out of her depth, she was. _This dress, this place, this music? I felt less awkward walking into an Asari strip club for the first time..._

Walking inside, they passed along a wide corridor with toilets and a cloakroom on one side, a bar with comfortable leather-backed ( _real leather?!)_ chairs overlooking the street on the other. At the end of the corridor was a flight of stairs that they then descended. The steps fanned out at the bottom and revealed a surprisingly large establishment. There were dozens of tables set with candles and patrons who were being served their orders, edging onto a very large open space where a few couples danced slowly in antiquated poses and styles.

On the other side of the dance floor from the tables was a large stage with an almost equally large group of musicians, all dressed smartly with clothes that Shepard had only ever before seen in textbooks and photos of the old Earth. _It's a real band too?!_ That was a bit of a shock. VI mixers were so easy and so cheap to find these days that it was pretty rare to find anyone able and willing to host ( let alone pay for) real musicians to give live performances, except at opera houses, theatres and grand concert halls.

She was amazed she remembered the names for all of the instruments she saw on show here. There were saxophones, trumpets, trombones, even some string instruments and a double bass... _and I'll be damned: a_ _real_ _baby grand piano!_ In fact _all_ were authentic instruments – not a single one electric or synthesised. That was the most surprising thing. _Non-digital instruments are rugged, difficult things that constantly needed tuning, repairing, fuss and love..._ Or so an old friend had once told her, as she remembered with a pang of sorrow:

 _Oh God... Hiro..._

Hiro who'd once (unsuccessfully) tried to teach her how to play the piano, for whom music was the very air he breathed and accompanied his every thought (asleep or awake), from whom Shepard had been adorably inseparable... from as early an age as she could recall. It was in his family's home that she had last heard sounds like these – Hiro had been an astounding musician even by the age of eight, proving adept at playing any musical instrument he picked up. He had been destined for greatness, sell-out debuts, great concert halls, fame and fortune...

Until the slavers came.

Even though both Hiro and Shepard survived, nothing between them would ever be the same again after that. Shepard's parents were killed. Hiro's parents... were _taken_. In the immediate aftermath, sixteen and raw from loss but of differing kinds, the two of them had initially clung to each other and their friendship. Classmates were missing, teachers too – entire families were gone or dead – and as fate would have it: nobody who Hiro or Shepard were ever close to remained. For a time they were tearfully grateful just to have each other, but even that changed... in the end.

As time drew on, Shepard came out of the experience the stronger. Hiro... did not.

Nightmares of his parents, being alive but suffering, worked day by day to consume him. His mind imagined the events that he had not himself witnessed... Hiro hadn't been at home when it happened. All that day he'd been in town being tutored and attending rehearsals for some large concert he was to take part in later that month... that never happened. He never forgave himself for not being there, although what he imagined he'd have been able to do had he been there was anyone's guess – Hiro was a kind and gentle soul, who could never have been violent. _Perhaps..._ Shepard thought glumly, _he would rather he had been taken with them... Fool._

Shepard frowned, painfully, remembering how he'd turned his genius away from music in the aftermath, frantically searching for information about what people taken by slavers endured at the hands of their captors and beyond. Day and night he crippled himself with his own imagination, turning to sleeping pills to try to control his sleep and stay the nightmares, and stims to continue his futile and exhaustive obsession with knowing what his parents may yet be enduring. He began to believe that he was tied to them... in this way:

" _You don't see them! You don't see them! Everyone has forgotten about The Taken but they're still out there!_ _I_ _see them every time I close my eyes! I see the hollowness in their eyes..."_

It was... in the end... the way Hiro chose to keep his parents close to him. If he wasn't hyper, he was unconscious, and that was they way of things for a while. He grew hateful of the Alliance – after all they hadn't saved his parents. He seemed gradually to forget entirely that Alliance forces had at least saved _him_ and rescued his best friend just in the nick of time. Shepard, relegated to the role of observer by that point, watched and received his outbursts in incrementally increasing rage, because to her: The Alliance were her heroes. They had saved her. Saved her when she had got nothing left with which to fight off capture just as the fear of what her future might be began to take hold of her – her strength was failing, she was starving...

Shepard had been hunted. She knew what it was to be _hunted._

Her parents dead, the band of slavers who'd killed them decided to set out after _her,_ having worked out there was obviously a teenage child living at home and thinking that would be an easy task. Having been forced to focus completely on her own survival for days on end, she too had nightmares in the aftermath, albeit of a different kind. She'd often slept under the bed and when awake she endured panic attacks that for at least a month afterward, had her climbing into closets at the slightest sound emerging from silence. She had difficulty building or maintaining emotional attachments to others, too. She would get stuck for varying periods of time in that single-minded purpose of 'looking out for yourself' – Hiro being the only exception and in her eyes an extended part of her 'self'.

However: Hiro's rants about the Alliance, which Shepard often took as personal attacks, prompted her to enhance the drive for personal survival she'd developed running from the slavers far beyond the physical and into the mental. Even now she remembered _always_ what it was to be alone, and have to fend for herself  alone, and sometimes imagined that life would be simpler that way. It was a constant battle not to drift into that mindset. Even going to counselling at the time was just another part of her developing obsession for doing what needed to be done, _whatever_ needed to be done... _to survive_.

Counselling did help in the end, though not by ending that obsession. All counselling ever really did was to help her learn to turn it outward. That, coupled with Anderson's influence, encouraged Shepard to shift her priorities and identification of 'self' from preserving just her own immediate and personal survival to preserving her long-term survival by promoting the survival and and well-being of others. Resonating with something deeper in her core than the slavers could ever have touched, she had found honour and a _reason_ to match her survival instincts to actions, and she had found peace.

But _that_ was only after Hiro's death.

At the start, Hiro was the only thing besides her own survival she cared about after the slavers left. She had been loyal to him beyond all reason: watching what the cycle of drugs was doing to him, the shaking mess he was turning into, unable to function without his next fix, all the while refusing any form of support from anyone... That plus her own problems nearly broke her, in the two years she had tried to pull her life – and his – back together after the slavers had gone. But nothing could go back to how it was. He chose his addiction over their friendship – that was how she saw it in the end – and so it was that Shepard had walked away, hollow and abused, to join the Alliance the same day.

Hiro... then having finally, successfully, pushed Shepard away... imagined that the last living soul he had ever cared about had betrayed him. He turned to _other_ things in the absence of her being his emotional punch bag. Then, when next Shepard returned to Mindoir, she came home to be informed (as last remaining 'next of kin') that he had committed suicide.

The sound of applause jolted Shepard's mind back into here and now, and she was quick to replace the look of sorrow and dread of memory she wore on her face with one of attention to her surroundings, although the fear lingered... It was the memory of _Hiro_ that had made her abhor Zaeed's addiction, and made her fear he might return to it. Zaeed had missed the look on her face as she had endured all those flashbacks and he continued to lead her, now by the hand, through the bystanders and diners. She stared at the back of him with a pained smile, for old insecurities die hard: she just couldn't help but think about how much she _never_ wanted to get close to someone and then be forced to give them up - like she had Hiro - ever again. Not like _that_.

She looked at Zaeed and for a split second was terrified by thoughts of how their time together could end. Ten years sped out in front of her ending with Zaeed as he had been when she had found him in the Starboard Cargo Area that day: falling apart with a bottle in his hand. Then his fingers tightened around her hand, bringing her out of that awful fantasy. She reminded herself then that Zaeed was _nothing_ like Hiro had been. He wasn't shy. He wasn't an anxious person. He was... in his own humorously pessimistic way, quite an optimist. Given a possible reason _not_ to sink into despair and self-pity, he'd jumped at the opportunity.

 _And the truth is, I might be lucky to have_ _one_ _year with him, let alone ten... So maybe I should take what little pleasure I can find, wherever and whenever I find it, from here on in. Leave the worrying for bigger and more important things._

"Ah. Here we go." Zaeed once again snapped her back to reality as he spotted a waiter eagerly making his way to meet them. He raised a hand to greet the man as he approached. The man bowed with courteous enthusiasm as he met them and exclaimed:

"Mr Massani! A pleasure to see you!" A handshake and a hug with a pat on the back followed, then to Shepard: "Madam; I am honoured to meet you." Another bow, this time in her direction; "I hope you enjoy your first visit to Moon Over Rat Pack tonight." Then to Zaeed again: "Your table is ready, please follow me." He led them around the edge of the _wooden_ dance floor (it was actually _real_ wood) while most of the band members seemed to have joined the crowd, taking a breather for the moment. A few remained onstage, playing a simpler tune to occupy anyone still listening. Some sat quietly on stage around and behind those performing, barely visible outside of the spotlight. Others, easily identifiable by their band uniforms, milled about between the two bar areas that hemmed the room either side.

Mind now on her surroundings, Shepard became acutely aware of eyes falling upon her as they walked, tracking them from around the room. She was used to drawing attention but amongst the larger majority (mostly the males), there was a kind of stare that she was broadly unfamiliar with: jaw-gaping _sexual_ attraction. That made Shepard feel immensely uncomfortable. _It's this damned dress..._ _I didn't wear it for_ _you_ _, you know!_ She scowled at _those_ men (and women) disapprovingly, feeling pleased when her commanding authority was re-instated and they looked away. She smiled with deep sadistic satisfaction when in turning away, many of them found themselves being scowled at even _more_ scornfully... by the man or woman sitting opposite them. She lowered her eyelids and smugly thought to them: _Have a great evening with your partners_. Yet there were still _more_ stares that she could not identify any obvious reason behind. She suspected that some may have recognised her face and were marvelling in wonder at whether or not she might somehow be _the_ Commander Shepard.

Reaching their table, the waiter pulled a chair out and offered the seat to Shepard. She thanked him, genuinely; _the dress_ was making all sorts of mundane things like even just 'sitting down' seem tricky. The waiter pulled out the other chair for Zaeed after tucking her in, but Zaeed did not take it. Instead he muttered 'thanks' to the waiter and nodded to Shepard as he asked: "Want a drink?"

"Umn..." Shepard paused to consider. What she really wanted was something extremely alcoholic – a pauper's sedative for her nerves – but remembering present company and recent events, she swiftly rejected the idea. "...I'd like some orange juice please."

"You sure? Makes no difference to me." He shrugged – a mildly cocky statement for a just-started-recovering alcoholic.

"No, no. Orange juice is fine. Thank you." Shepard nodded to the waiter, who quickly turned to Zaeed. She'd already elected to face this event (however it transpired) sober for future mental deconstruction in the aftermath. Besides... it was against her principles to flaunt the having and enjoying of something that someone else might want but shouldn't or couldn't have.

"And you Mr Massani? What will you be having tonight? We've got some of the finest whiskeys stored just for you. 2140 was a very good year. I secured a whole case – perfectly aged and kept in uninterrupted stasis ever since." Shepard tried not to allow her eyes to widen to the point they might fall out of their sockets when she heard that and did the math.

 _Goddess! Stasis?! For that long?! The ideal age of whiskies is what – twelve years depending on what they're aged in? It must have been put in stasis barely after the technology was reverse-engineered from the Prothean ruins on Mars! How rare must that stuff be?! How much does it cost?! Wait... I_ _don't_ _want to know..._

"Thank you Jomo but I think I'll have some Colombian coffee if it's all the same to you." Zaeed slapped a hand on the waiter's arm, "But hey - don't worry about bringing mine over. I'll get it from the bar. 'll Give me a chance to say 'hi' to the boys n' girls anyway. It's been too long."

"That it has, Mr Massani, that it has." Jomo smiled, nodding enthusiastically. "OK I will bring madam her orange juice and I will bring you tonight's menu, but of course you know you can have _anything_ you want." He gestured with broad, dark-skinned hands, flashing the pale of their undersides as he did so and bowing to Shepard before he departed.

"Old friend, Jomo is." Zaeed smiled as Jomo got out of earshot. "Good man. You wouldn't think it by the way he dresses and talks to customers like the rest of the staff, but he actually owns and runs this place – has done for many years. Runs it well, too. Nasty shock to anyone who thinks they can push the ordinary staff around or be rude to them." Zaeed winked, "Anyway if you'll excuse me I'll just go say 'hello' to a few folks then I'll be right back, alright?"

Shepard nodded, mildly curious as to how it was that Zaeed had come to be so welcome here. She watched as he removed his hat, placing it on the table. He took off his long, black neru jacket and folded it over the back of the chair. Once more Shepard was forced to notice how incredibly handsome his outfit was – pants trim to his waist, waistcoat trim all the way from there to up his ribcage. Watching him move through the crowd, she noted how he nodded at a few of the people seated and standing around. So... A lot of the stares she'd thought directed at _her_ , might actually have been directed more specifically at her being with _him_. He wasn't just welcome here, he was well-known. Approaching the bar, she noted how people moved out of his way.

Actually it was nice to be not quite the centre of attention, for once. She watched Zaeed lazily at a distance as he spoke at the bar. He leaned forward to shake hands with a few of the staff. _Oh_ _damn_ _..._ Shepard propped an elbow onto the table, rested her chin on her hand and blatantly stared; infatuated with the way his pants outlined a sprinter's backside. _Damn he looks_ _good_ _..._ It was a constant shock to her how physically attractive she found this man to be, a man who was nine years her elder. _Since when did I find him so alluring..?_ The sound of his laughter rang clear above the crowd and shook her from her dream-stare with a jump. He turned, having picked up his coffee and was headed back from the bar. She cleared her throat and pretended to be preoccupied with her napkin.

Looking up as he drew closer, she noted he had a huge grin on his face. "Old friends are the _best_ friends." He stated cheerfully, "You know they wanted to know how much I was paying for such a beautiful woman to be here with me tonight – they don't believe me that you're here because you want to be." He chuckled and shook his head as he placed the small china cup and saucer down onto the table.

Shepard shook her head and blushed a little, blushed again when she realised he might actually have done that on previous occasions – _paid_ for company. Then, refusing to be embarrassed, she turned to the bar where she could see several of them were presently watching, she waved and blew them a kiss. "Do they know who I am?" Shepard asked Zaeed, smiling back at them as they fell all about poking each other and laughing.

Pulling out his chair Zaeed paused, "Yes and no..." then sat down. "I told them who you were. They said I was pulling their leg but that you were a cracking good look-alike."

"Riiight." Shepard shook her head.

"Commander Shepard would never wear a dress like yours, they told me, and in any case she died two years ago." Zaeed adjusted the placement of his chair.

"Huh." Was about all Shepard could muster to that. It was still a sore point, knowing she was actually properly _dead_ , remembering dying, but remembering nothing of it prior to what she could only assume were dazed awakenings on a doctor's operating table. Might be that was Zaeed's way of pointing out he was lacking information about that part of her history (it wasn't exactly common knowledge), might be he was just that insensitive, might be he was testing to see if it bothered _her_... With Zaeed it was hard to know for sure what his angle was when he said something. Regardless she put on a brave face, half-expecting a direct question about it to follow. Instead, however, he moved on:

"They'll probably spend the rest of the night trying to work out how I could _possibly_ be telling the truth and second guessing themselves." He chuckled, paused and looked up. "Jomo knows, but he's one of the few folks in this galaxy I trust to keep that to himself. We go back a long ways – me n' him. He saved my life. He's the one that found me after Vido thought he'd killed me. Got me to a hospital in the nick of time and stayed with me the whole time 'til I was better."

Zaeed twitched his head in Jomo's direction. "He was a measly sales rep for some mildly dodgy firm or other at the time, just happened to take a turn down the wrong – or right, depending on how you look at it – alleyway that evening. He's an honest man, just there weren't many honest jobs in that place. He always used to say he always wanted to run a club like this – it was his dream. We had more than a few things in common when it came to taste – music, decor, fashions... So once I'd managed to stash away enough cash from bounty hunting, I bought this place and gave it to him." Zaeed smiled and sipped his coffee.

"Hm." Shepard was a little surprised: "He doesn't seem to be the type of person who'd want something he hadn't earned with his own two hands."

"You hit the nail on the head with that – at first he refused to take it." Zaeed set the cup down, gesturing with a raised finger whilst turning the cup around on its saucer. "Had to give him a bloody printout of my financial transactions before he'd believe I could afford it. After that? Ten days of arguing why I wanted to give it to him and how he hadn't earned it. I told him he bloody well had earned it – he saved my life and I had a debt to pay, and I _pay_ my debts. In the end he accepted on the condition that he always had to keep a table for me, not change a goddamn thing about the place I didn't agree with firsthand, and that he put his should-have-been-an-accountant skills to managing my funds so I didn't make any  other stupid financial decisions, so long as we're both alive."

"Considering how much you seem to be a lone wolf, I must say I'm a bit surprised to find you've got so many friends." Shepard curled her hand under her chin.

Zaeed sighed and pulled a sour face. "They're good men and women here. I know good folk when I find them and I keep tabs on them. Aren't too many. But if you think I trust them... Or wouldn't kill them..." Zaeed's face took on a darker expression, "I told you before: put a gun to someone's head and chances are they'll tell you whatever it is you want to know. Nobody could pay me enough to kill these people but if I thought they were going to get into a situation – one where what they knew could affect my survival and someone might put a gun to their head to find it out – I'd kill 'em in a heartbeat before it happened."

He stared at Shepard with solemn conviction: "I'd do it quick and I'd do it clean, but I wouldn't wait for them to shame themselves if I knew I couldn't get them out in one piece. That's the way I work Shepard." Taking a deep breath, he broke his stare to tend instead to the nursing of his coffee as if it were a stiff shot of some sorts, brow furrowed. "Had to do that to someone once, wasn't fun. Nowadays I keep friends like these at a distance – I won't tell 'em anything that might get 'em killed..." He looked up again, deadly serious: "...at _my_ hands."

"I can appreciate that." Shepard nodded and paused, " I think you have major trust issues..."

"Hah!" Zaeed scoffed.

A smile spread across Shepard's face: "...But I can see where you are coming from. Of course you know I have to ask: where do I fit into that equation?"

Zaeed sucked air and thought about it. "Honestly? I don't know." He shrugged and pulled a face. "You've got..." He paused as if trying to find the right words, "There's something about _you_. People  trust you. It's an instant thing. Noticed it the first time I met you and you'd got Cerberus Bitch and Lapdog in tow, them letting _you_ call all the shots despite _her_ being used to being top dog. Hell I _know_ about that twisted Ice Queen – she's a wily one yet even _she_ trusts you."

The crowd erupted with applause around them; the easy blues melody that had been playing in the background of this conversation had come to an end. Waiting for the noise to die down, Zaeed looked at Shepard. He seemed to scrutinise her for a moment, before continuing. "Remember how I said only two kinds of people don't crack under pressure?"

Shepard strained to recall the statement – it was from one of the many stories he'd told her. "The trained killer and the psychopath?" She proposed.

"Right. Well... I think I might need to edit that. Could be there's a third: the martyr. Personally I could see you falling into _that_ category." He smiled and winked. _Flattery indeed_ , thought Shepard, _in the most bizarre ways..._

Jomo arrived with Shepard's drink, carefully sliding it in front of her. She nodded acknowledgement and thanked him, but noting how the two of them had been deep in conversation, he placed the menus on the edge of the table and was then gone without a word. "Martyr?" Shepard stared into her drink and smiled darkly – _smiled_ at how nothing was ever simple, how he was _technically_ more right than he might ever get to know, _smiled..._ at how her job had become her life, and of course then she remembered Alenko, and didn't feel like a martyr at all.

Virmire was a place and time carved into her as deeply as her last year on Mindoir, and thoughts about it and what happened there always left her feeling bitter. "I _am_ best known for my heroics, but martyrs don't usually order other people to die _for_ them – usually the defining point of a martyr is that they _themselves_ die for their cause, inspiring others then to follow." She shook her head. "That's not me I'm afraid." Zaeed raised an eyebrow, inviting her to explain.

She sighed. "When I was fighting Saren I had to choose which of my two closest comrades was going to die for my cause. One was a man who probably could have been my lover down the line were it not for Alliance regs. I kinda wanted him to be and I think he wanted me too. Both were friends." Shepard picked up the drink and swilled it around the glass. "One happened to be with a Salarian Special Task Group, the other – my would-be lover – was the last man standing at a bomb set to blow the place sky-high. Both were in mortal danger." She lifted her glass of orange juice and stared into it.

Zaeed sipped at his coffee again and then speaking from the decorative rim of the china cup that held it, he asked: "Your choice?"

"I chose to save the one with STG. I chose her because I knew from the moment I spoke to Sovereign for the first time, the moment I started to wrap my head around the true scope of the Reaper threat for the first time, I knew I was going to need to safeguard as many forces as possible for the time ahead. Having potential allies in the STG in future I believed to be more important than anything else I wanted." She sighed again, "I figure you should know that before _this..._ " She gestured, limply waving a hand at table level, "...goes anywhere – and before you start throwing words like 'martyr' in my direction."

For a moment she wondered if the night might be over following that brutal honesty, but Zaeed simply stared at her with a little smile as if he'd found a new level of respect for her. "I understand." He nodded, took a gulp of his coffee, and then apparently satisfied with that as an ending to the conversation; changed the subject. "So... Tell me something about the great Commander Shepard that I haven't already heard in the vids."

Shepard laughed, a little shocked by the man's nerve. "Well... Umn..." She started, "Really I have no idea what they put about me in the vids and what they don't." She shrugged.

Zaeed only stared under half-lidded eyes: "Fine." He gave a small shrug. "From the beginning then."

"The beginning?" Shepard took a deep breath and tried to gather her thoughts. "Well... I uh... grew up on a colony - Mindoir. Lost my parents when I was sixteen – slavers. Alliance came to our rescue. I enlisted as soon as I could. They were the closest thing I had left to family by that point, I guess." _Apart from Hiro, who I walked away from because he chose his addiction over me, like I fear you could one day if something pushed you hard enough..._ She omitted mention of Hiro and instead just sighed: "Actually... It kinda seems like me and slavers share some kind of a twisted destiny." She set her glass down with raised brows and stared at the table as she thought about it.

"A few years later I found myself fighting off a Batarian raid on a Elysium – slavers again. In fact I've been told that was one of the reasons for my being chosen as a SpecTRe." Shepard shrugged as she continued: "Then, while on the chase for Saren a few years back, there was this girl who'd been taken by the same slavers that attacked Mindoir and killed _my_ family – in the same attack no less. Somehow she escaped the slavers or someone had rescued her – I forget the details – and somebody brought her to the Citadel. They called me off the Presidium to go talk to her when she started threatening to kill herself. Maybe they knew my history and hoped I'd be able to make a connection with her." Shepard chucked, "That or maybe they called _me_ because for some bizarre reason when she got away from whoever was looking after her, she'd somehow fled onto the _private_ docking bay where the Normandy was parked, making it my personal business. Anyway I managed to talk her down and they took her away. I think she's in care now. I got a letter from her a few months ago."

Shepard shrugged and felt ugly inside and out. Ugly like she was snugly wrapped around by some hideous dark monster that forever made her memories haunting ones. Darkness clung to her like Omega's stench clung to clothes. Memories of traumas past weighed her down at every turn, and ordinary people noticed the cloud above her head even when she thought she was being cheerful and outgoing. People instinctively knew she'd seen things – bad things. Staring into the bright golden orange of her juice, she tried to paint over the memories with that colour.

"To sum it up: me and slavers go back a _long_ way. I even ended up meeting the one that led that raid I fought off on Elysium again, many years later. The dumbass laid a trap for me in the hopes of revenge. It didn't work out too well for him." Zaeed was quiet for a while, watching her. She hadn't caught the anger in his expression as she'd talked; her eyes too focused on the drink in her hands. She didn't catch the soreness in it either, and she didn't see how under the table he now clenched his fist, hard.

"Slavers huh? Dirty bunch." He exhaled, loudly. "Met a few. Slippery as you like and mean as hell. Not people you ever want to know and let live."

"Yeah." Shepard lifted her drink and took another eye-wateringly large gulp of the juice, mentally washing away her memories with the colour as she swallowed. It was smooth as milk but had a real sharpness to it. She smiled and shook her head. "Hey I'd forgotten what freshly-squeezed orange juice actually tastes like. It's one of the things I've always missed, racing around the galaxy as I have been. I uh... _never_ really got over being spoilt as a child – years growing up and living on a farm, eating fresh food... It sets standards that food most anywhere else just can't meet let alone beat."

"Huh. You should try the coffee. It's almost to die for." Zaeed took a mouthful of the now lukewarm liquid and grinned with a sparkle in his eye. _That was a reference to our earlier conversation wasn't it? The one about martyrs._ Shepard was starting to realise that when he actually used that brain of his, it was sharp as a knife and twice as deadly. _Throw someone off balance then come at them sideways._ It was his sense of humour coming through again.

"So." Shepard raised her eyes to his, expressionless except for a raised brow. "What's next?"

"Dinner!" Zaeed exclaimed gleefully, adding: "Food that might pass even the high standards of a farmer's daughter, too." He winked with a toothy grin, and passed her a menu.

"Hah!" Shepard scoffed but didn't rise to the bait: "Hey anything better than Alliance rations and _I'll_ be happy."


	10. Chapter 10 - All The Way

~ Finding The Heart ~

All The Way

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the intellectual property of Bioware, not mine.

WARNING: Rated for MA for next chapters. Some foul language.

Author note: I've purposefully tried not to describe Shepard too much, after all, fans of Mass Effect will each have their own versions of Shepard, so I leave those parts up to your imagination.

References:

 _"I've Got You Under My Skin" – by Cole Porter_

 _"That Old Black Magic" – written by Harold Arlen, with the lyrics by Johnny Mercer_

 _"All The Way" – written by Jimmy Van Heusen, with lyrics by Sammy Cahn_

 _(If you're a Star Trek DS9 fan you may appreciate why I'm particularly fond of the last one.)_

 _"Skylark" – written by Hoagy Carmichael, with lyrics by Johnny Mercer._

 _Mention of the film Alien because it's one of my favourite films, and "There's got to be more to you than just money!" is a nod to Star Wars IV._

* * *

The unlikely pairing of the ex-Alliance first human SpecTRe and the galaxy's most renowned bounty hunter had spent well over an hour engaged in idle discourse over dinner, getting to know each other's history – or at least the parts of it that each was willing to share with the other at this point.

"Yeah. So I guess you could say I missed my chance. But..." Zaeed stares into the (non-alcoholic) brown fizzy contents of the glass in his hand as he twists it, "I guess I... should really thank you, Shepard." - his eyes rising upwards to meet hers as he declares that, glass motionless in his hand.

"Oh? What for?" Shepard slid him a look of suspicion before pouring more soy sauce into a small china dipping dish.

"Well, if I'm honest..." Zaeed huffed as he placed the glass down carefully to the side, "I could well've blown you a hole through the hull for my trouble, if you hadn't turned up when you did." Knife and fork now grasped firmly in his hands, he hunted for another chunk of meat in his bowl and found it. "Besides, I'd never've thought to take another look at her obituary if you hadn't given me..." He popped in and chewed the last thing he'd found mid-sentence, bobbing his head from side to side before swallowing, "... _other_ things to distract me with for a while." Stabbing at his next quarry he grinned with a raised eyebrow as he looked up at her from across the table. Shepard swallowed her own morsel and patiently waited for him to elaborate.

His face contorted with the bitterness of the conversation topic. "I'd spent all my time 'til then wallowing self-pity over how I should've done better by her, how I should've tried." He shrugged and sighed impatiently as he glanced up at her: "Look I know you don't think much of my life, but I never had a problem with it 'til the day I found out... you know... that she'd survived... then gone n' bloody died before I got chance to _take in_ the fact that she'd survived, let alone had chance to've done anything with that little revelation." Zaeed hesitated then, slumping his shoulders as he stared at his meal - appetite momentarily lost. "I guess I was being pretty damn selfish. Nothing new there. But..."

Pausing to find another mouthful he shrugged: "Well after I'd sat talking with you – sorting out your sodding model collection –" This said with a smirk on his face that told Shepard he really rather enjoyed that evening, "I went back and I looked over her obituary again. _Made_ myself look. _Made_ myself feel the pain... and take it in." Shepard frowned but he justified this masochism: "It has to be a part of me Shepard – that's the only way I can deal with it. But looking at her picture again... I actually realised she was _smiling_."

Zaeed's voice shook a little as he said those last three words. He looked up with this sort of vulnerable, half-smile. It was an expression that made Shepard realise just how handsome he could be when he wasn't scowling, and in that moment she glimpsed a shadow of how heart-stoppingly gorgeous he must have been back in his youth to your average girl, before the scars.

Of course Shepard wasn't your average girl – she was a woman for starters – and to her those scars were testament to some very attractive traits: endurance, survival skills and the sheer determination to live. She found herself smiling back. If nothing else she was just honestly happy that he seemed to be in a lot less pain, emotionally, about all of this. It reaffirmed the growing hope that she'd done something right, that maybe she _could_ have a good influence on him... _Maybe this means I'm not so bad at the 'talking' thing as I imagine I am._

Zaeed prattled on: "She was bloody _smiling_ , Shepard. Smiling! Bright as sunshine!" The smile broadened, "After I realised _that_ I went back and re-read what was written in her obituary and that gave me a much needed boot up the backside. She didn't just _look_ happy; I think she actually _was._ I  hadn't managed to ruin her life, and the bloke that wrote those words... Well _he_ loved her as surely as I should have."

"Do you feel less guilty now, over not knowing what happened?" Shepard asked, hopeful. "You could never have known she survived." When Zaeed shrugged, Shepard added: "And if she really was the type of person you describe her to be, I'll bet she would've forgiven you for everything, too."

There was a sadness in his eyes – just a glimmer of hurt pride. "I wish I could say that for certain... that she'd forgive me." He took a sip of his drink. "I _do_ feel more at peace with the whole thing now. Knowing that despite everything she could _still_ smile like that really eased the guilt I felt over what'd happened. It's just... well... realising that she  did have a life after all that, that she moved on – found someone else, found a way to smile like that without me..." Zaeed shrugged, hovering with another meaty morsel skewered on the fork he now paused to study.

Shepard nodded: "I guess that must hurt a little too. Realising in the end she didn't need you..." ...and then she tried not to cringe at her own words after she'd said them.

"Yeah." Zaeed was momentarily expressionless. He shrugged and frowned, taking in that meaty lump, chewing it, and then washing it down with a sip of the fizzy coke that he'd just topped up from a very curvy glass bottle. "But as I said – boot up the backside. It's certainly made me think about what I'd do if I ever got a chance like _that_ again." He looked up at her and smiled that fragile smile again and it was clear what he meant by 'that'. A tilt of his head and raised brows emphasised: "One thing's for certain: I owe it to her to be more than I was. Better. And of course to treat any lady crazy enough to give this old mongrel a try a heck of a lot better than I _ever_ treated her."

Panic passed over Shepard for half a second: _Don't pin all those hopes on me..._ was Shepard's first thought. She could face down an entire wave of collectors and not flinch but her confidence wavered here. It was entirely possible that the prospect of being loved was more terrifying than dying. She could actually vouch for that – _dying isn't quite so bad when you can hold onto the belief that it was for a good reason_ (in her case: saving Joker's life had given her peace).

The idea of being loved was awkward at best but it was far more scary to think you might come to love that person back – _that_ made you vulnerable. It made you have a need that you couldn't control. _Hell it might as well be another form of addiction._ She'd never quite gone that deep before and it showed. Indeed she couldn't even try to explain why it was that just lately Zaeed set tingles in her tummy whenever he smiled. He just... did. That's what frightened her. That and the fact that it was despite every despicable thing she'd ever read in his résumé. _Vulnerable? More like asking for trouble..._

Yet she was here with him now, and it was hard to deny how good that felt. The meal had been beyond delicious. It was like dining with a king – the way it seemed that anything they wanted would be found and prepared and presented to them, with authentic style and exquisite flavour no matter whatever it was and where it had come from. Shepard had enjoyed a very personal favourite this evening: sushi as sushi should only ever be eaten – freshly prepared by an excellent _traditional_ chef.

The taste of real wasabi had been a bit of a surprise – one that had very nearly ruined her dress. Zaeed had damn near laughed his socks off at the sight of her red-faced and coughing and spluttering as the burning shot up the back of her nose. It had of course been years since she had tasted the real stuff. Her mistake had been after mixing in the wasabi with the soy sauce and pickled ginger (her personal favourite combo), to then plunge the seaweed-and-rice-wrapped cubed calamari roll into it, not realising that the roll _itself_ had contained a decent dollop of wasabi. _That Citadel noodle bar can't hold a candle to this place._

It had almost been an explosive combination. She _had_ kicked Zaeed under the table afterwards for laughing so loudly, even when she couldn't help but laugh just as hard herself, albeit after her eyes the effects of the wasabi had eased. Part of the reason she kicked him was because his inability to stop laughing had given her the same problem. _Thank god I don't wear make-up!_ She smiled again remembering the tears that had not so long ago streamed down her cheeks – part spice and part laughter. Terrifying though the prospect may be that her wellbeing seemed to be growing attached to him, it was getting hard to resist.

She'd never really noticed until now how his laugh had always brought a smile to her face. Every "Hah!" when he downed a target - she just used to roll her eyes and pity the man that found killing so entertaining, but truthfully at the same time it use to make her smile. Anyone else on the battlefield sounded serious, sometimes pent-up, sometimes aggressive, or simply soberly focused... But not Zaeed and Garrus. No... Take them with you and all you'd here was this constant exchange of "Sniped that one!" and "And stay down!" – in fact the pair of them together used to do Shepard's head in.

Thane and Samara? Calm at all times, always serious. Tali, Liara, Ash, Grunt, Jacob, Miranda, Legion, even Wrex – all of them were mind-on-business once the fighting took hold. Zaeed didn't seem to take quite the same level of sadistic pleasure that Jack or Kasumi did in dispatching their victims (and when Jack got her hands on someone, 'victim' was definitely the appropriate word to use), but it did always seem like he was the easiest to please. Put him on a battlefield surrounded by things and people trying to kill him and he was like a child in a playpen full of new toys. _Simple things for simple minds_... she used to think occasionally with no small amount of envy. Whilst _she_ was busy fretting about whether they were going to get out of a situation alive, worrying because she had other bigger (and more important things) she'd got to survive long enough and well enough to do afterwards, _he_ was invariably off in his own happy little trigger-pulling world.

Shepard looked at the now near-empty dishes she had been served and decided that perhaps food was her own private, simplistic pleasure. Prawn, tuna, whitefish, cuttlefish, crab, salmon and mackerel... Two small samples of each, exquisitely presented and mouth-wateringly delicious. She'd hesitated before ordering it all for heaven only knew how strongly her breath would stink by now. Nonetheless Zaeed had insisted she order whatever she wanted, and that he would share a little of whatever _she_ had and that she should do the same vice versa, declaring with a wink at the time that he had every intention of getting within more than three feet of her later. _That_ had been the first major hint he had given her since leaving her quarters that tonight might be a _long_ night.

Meanwhile Zaeed had had for himself a rather glorious selection of curries – miniature pots containing meats and vegetables in sauces of rich turmeric gold, bright paprika reds and shades of ruddy tomato and coriander brown. Alongside them had been plates of artfully arranged colourful spiced rices, poppadoms at the side with onion barges, garlic naan bread and miniature samosas. Amidst all this sharing it had turned out that both of them had a weakness for ginger.

"Wow... I don't think I've eaten this much good food in _years._ " Shepard grinned, and tried not to be tempted by any more, lest the dress she was wearing look more like it was fitting the form of someone about to have a xenomorph bursting out of their lower chest (she always preferred the original film Alien to the 2050s remake).

"Good grub. Can't beat it. One of the best places for human food in the galaxy I reckon." Zaeed grinned, washing down another mouthful this time with some water. He picked up the menu to give to her, "Hey have a look at the menu – you can have a look and see if there's anything else that catches your eye. There's a _lot_ to choose from."

"Oh..." Shepard took the menu but shrugged and patted her belly as she laid it down on the table. "Much as I'd love to I think I'm stuffed! I'll burst if I try to eat anymore, so I'll avoid the temptation, thank you." She smiled and resisted the urge to jokingly asking if they could do cross-galaxy deliveries, just in case Zaeed took her seriously and decided to make it happen.

"Fair enough. Must admit I'm not sure I could stomach anything after this either. They rather over did it with the selection. Over-enthusiasm I guess. I've not been here for awhile." Zaeed went back to polishing off the last of his rather large feast. How one man could eat that much and still be able to move was something Shepard had to shake her head at.

Waiting for Zaeed to finish, she stared off into the dancing couples who were shuffling cheerfully around the dance floor to the lazy melody of the singer's voice: "... _I tried so... not to give in. I said to myself this affair never will go so well. So why should I try to resist, when baby I know so well: I've got you... under my skin..."_ Shepard smiled at the words. _I think I could learn to like this kind of music._ The swing rhythm, backed by the brass band, worked to cast a spell of relaxation upon her. It felt like she was in another galaxy entirely – one far from anything she had to worry about.

She studied the crowd with an easy sweep of her eyes. The thought occurred to her that this was the first time since Eden Prime that she'd been amongst so great a number and variety of humans and _just_ humans. What was it Mordin once said: _"More variable. Peaks and valleys, mutations, adaptations... Far beyond other life"_ – Shepard raised her eyebrows in agreement. _He really wasn't joking was he? I had no idea..._

Out amongst the stars you might be able to tell which colony a person came from as readily as once upon a time you could tell which _continent_ a person came from on Earth. But it had been a long time since Shepard was around enough humans for her brain to bother noticing their distinguishing features. Coming to this place she actually  noticed height differences, different builds, different facial structures, different skin tones... She sat and smiled in wonder at the great diversity presently on display.

But it had also been a long, long time since she stared out into a crowd and could afford the time to allow herself to just _enjoy_ the sight of other people enjoying themselves. _It's things like this I'm fighting for,_ her conscience reminded her: _people, places, ways of life... culture, history, diversity..._ She looked at Zaeed and smiled sweetly for just a moment, _Thank you, for the reminder_. Just when her life seemed to be constantly getting darker and riddled with more complex twists and turns every day, he had brought that... And she hadn't realised how direly she needed that reminder until she had been presented with it.

The music stopped and the dancers ground to a halt as applause erupted around the room. Shepard joined in, wanting to be sure she likewise showed her appreciation for an excellent performance. Suddenly the band swung into a new jovial melody – something about " _That old black magic..._ " – the crowd momentarily clapped louder and there were a few cheers. The dancers started jig about with renewed enthusiasm. That made her smile all the more broadly. It was good to see happy people.

"What you grinning at?" He looked up and caught her expression, having finished his last mouthful.

"Oh umn." Shepard cleared her throat. "I was just thinking this..." she tilted her head towards the swinging dancers, "...kinda reminds me what it is I'm fighting for. It's good to be reminded." She smiled. Zaeed looked at her incredulously so she scolded him: "Oh c'mon!" She kicked him under the table again – this time just for good measure. "There's got to be more to you than just money!"

"Nope." Zaeed shook his head with indifference. "I'm not like you, Shepard." He sighed, and his eyes met hers with forceful clarity. "Saving the galaxy and the billions upon billions of billions of lives within it? Don't mean a damned _thing_ to me. But it sounded like a challenge and your Illusive Man was willing to pay a very high price for my services." His expression was cold and Shepard looked him over. She didn't buy it – not any more, she didn't.

"Really." She stared at him deadpan. "Concentrate on being 'big goddamn heroes' I recall you once saying."

"I _said_ it sounded like a challenge. Low odds of survival, chance to go out with a bang." He shrugged. "Guess you could say I was getting kind of bored of living. I was already the best at what I do. Sounded like an adventure so I jumped at it – I'd either survive and go down in history, or I'd die in a blaze of glory at a time of my choosing."

"Reputations are merely what other people think of you." Shepard interjected.

"Look," Zaeed grinned as he shook his head – it was that sadistic grin he sometimes wore, the one that had occasionally turned her stomach – "I couldn't give a toss if other folks call me a hero. I don't care _what_ they remember me by, so long as they remember me for _something_."

"And yet somehow that just doesn't ring true to me anymore." Shepard drew her eyes away and played with the green tea that swirled inside the small cup she held in her hand. Her actions were carefully rehearsed, practised with the goal of prying the truth out of whomsoever she spoke with. Back in N-school, she always got her classmates to spill whatever secrets they were trying to keep. Maybe Zaeed had been around her enough to notice this, maybe not. Either way he shrugged as if defeated and sighed:

"To be honest with you... even those things mean little to me now."

Shepard shrugged. "If you want my advice, you better find something that does. No point doing anything unless you know why it is you're doing it." It was purposeful: she was giving him a way out, a means by which to walk away without hurting her feelings and without any shame. She knew he'd been antsy since they finished off the Collectors and she presumed the Illusive Man wasn't exactly funding him at the same rate anymore. Of course deep down if she admitted it; it was her who wanted to run away, it was her who wanted him to take the exit so she wouldn't be the one who quit.

As if reading her mind Zaeed responded with: "I'm not going _anywhere_." Staring off into the distance as he spoke, it was not defeat but conviction in his tone of voice as he turned his eyes to meet hers. Adding with a slow shake of his head and a Cheshire cat smile: "Not _this_ time."

Shepard threw him a puzzled look, tipping her head to one side. The crowd erupted with applause as the band finished another song. She clamped her mouth shut on the question she was about to ask and smiled disbelievingly instead – she had her suspicions but she wasn't sure she was ready to hear such things just yet. The dance floor began to clear as so often happened regardless the style of music when a particularly well-loved and energetic tune ended and she turned to watch the dancers scatter, leaving the dance floor empty.

Movement in the corner of her eye drew her attention back to Zaeed. He had looked straight at the band and caught the singer's eye with a slight lift of his hand. She began to half squint her eyes at him, suspicious and now extra-mindful of her surroundings. _Now what is he up to..?_ She wondered, nervously. Slowly Zaeed rose to his feet, tugging his waistcoat down as he did so. She watched with apprehension as he rolled his shoulders, stretched a little, and took a deep breath. A very, slow melancholy melody began to play, including musicians with string instruments she had completely forgotten were even there. Slowly turning and taking a step towards her, he offered her his hand:

"Care to join me for a dance?"

"Dance..?" The stark terror in her eyes as she answered was impossible to hide but Zaeed did a very, _very_ good job of keeping a straight face. He did so despite this being the one and  only time he'd ever seen this battle-worthy woman actually frightened of something (well... except for that one time that damn idiot Turian got his face blown off – by Tarak's rusty old gunship of all things).

"That dress looks _far_ too good on you for you to just to sit around in it at a table all night." He replied with a raised brow.

"I don't think you understand." Shepard shook her head, wide eyed. "I don't _dance._ "

"Sure you do. Every time we've been on a mission that took us to Afterlife. You'd tell me and Garrus to go get some drinks at the bar then next thing we know you've made a bee-line to the dance floor and Garrus has to damn near drag you off it." She had evidently forgotten how often she'd done that, or thought that because it was someone else who fetched her that he'd somehow missed the show. Just to add insult to injury he finished with: "You'll wiggle that arse of yours any goddamn chance you get – I know, I've _seen_ you."

Shepard's mouth half opened and closed again in indignation and the burning desire to ask whether he meant he'd _watched_ her dancing, or if before recent events he'd actually actively been studying _her_ 'arse'. Finding a way _not_ to be dragged onto that dance floor in this dress, however, was a far more pressing need:

"Oh no no no!" She shook her head, "That's completely different." - eyes widening in fear. _Sweet Kalahira - he was watching, wasn't he?!_

"Really?" He smirked and folded his arms as he leaned back. "How?"

"This... This is entirely different. Me? What I've done or do or whatever - that's not _proper_ dancing..." _He has to know I'm terrible at dancing if he's seen me already... Right?!_ "I don't do proper dancing! Not like _this_ anyway..." Shepard waved a pointed finger at the crowd. "Hell it's usually more to make Garrus laugh than anything – he thinks I'm a terrible dancer." _I'm babbling. Goddess I'm_ _actually_ _babbling..._ "Nobody _sane_ would say that I can dance. Peg a Salarian with a rock at fifty yards as he streaks across a busy cargo bay like a pyjak to a Krogan food store? Sure, let's go! No strings attached! Choreographed dance moves? Hell no! You've got to be kidding me! No. No." And once more with just a little more panic: "No!" She furiously shook her head.

"I'll _show_ you." Zaeed said gently, trying not to laugh. "It's not hard. All you have to do is stand still and sway a little. Easy."

"No." She scowled at him and folded her arms.

Zaeed held out his hand again. "Shepard, don't make me look bad." He jerked his head and eyes towards the bar and drew her attention to the fact that there were now quite a number of eyes watching them from the fringes. "I'll never live it down as it is." He grinned with pleading eyes, still good humoured but not about to take no for an answer.

Shepard threw a glare to them, too, before she finally caved: "Alright alright." Rising to her feet, she was about to mutter some complaint or other when he slipped his fingers around her waist and stole the breath from out of her.

"Besides... They're playing our song." He whispered into her ear as he guided her.

Butterflies set in loose in her stomach and she balked – " _Our_ song...?" but she was already there and running now would be something _everyone_ would see. _And if Joker hears about it..._ Well that prospect was too horrific to even bear thinking. Meanwhile she _swore_ most of the entire room was watching them. She could feel their eyes. "Zaeed..." She protested but:

"Shh..." he said, lifting her hand to his shoulder as he turned his head to face her. His other hand found hers and he took a step towards her. Gently he pressed his body to hers and _that_ got her attention... Especially when he leaned his head ear-to-ear with hers and she felt his breath upon her neck as he spoke: "Just listen, and move with me."

 _I am not a child!_ She was about to protest and shove him off, but that would be even more childish. The male singer then started to sing and as he did so, her temper fizzled out and her mood was instantly washed away...

" _When somebody loves you... It's no good unless he loves you..."_ The singer smiled and winked at her as she caught sight of him over Zaeed's shoulder, _"All the way..."_ Shepard sighed, and began to shake her head. _"Happy to be near you, when you need someone to cheer you..."_ She couldn't help the smile beginning to creep across her lips. _"All the way..._ " Slowly, she allowed herself to be led in time to the music: _"Taller... than the tallest tree is – that's how it's got... to feel."_ The arm around her waist pulled her a little closer while the hand holding hers continued to guide her, _"Deeper... than the deep blue sea is – that's how deep it goes... if it's real."_

Her eyes sheepishly met Zaeed's as the next line began. _"And when somebody_ _needs_ _you, it's no good unless he_ _needs_ _you..."_ The singer made clear his emphasis: _"_ _All_ _the way..."_ Zaeed wore an expression of earnest sobriety. _"Through the good or lean years, and through all the in-between years..."_ The last of her tension melted away... _"Come what may."_ He squeezed her hand gently as they swayed. _"Who knows... where the road will lead us - only a fool... would say..."_ Zaeed pulled her closer as he stared into her eyes: _"But if you let me love you..._ _It's for sure_ _I'm_ _gonna love you..._ _All_ _the way..._ _All_ _the way."_

The singer turned to the band and nodded as a trumpet player began an easy melody solo. Zaeed leaned in to speak softly into her ear: "Shepard you do what you do because you _believe_ in saving the galaxy. That's what you want."

" _All... the way..."_ \- The singer's timing was impeccable.

"Truth is I couldn't care less what happens to the galaxy, because I'm damn sure nobody in it really gives a toss if I live or die. That's the god's honest truth."

" _Come what may..._ " – Again the singer couldn't have timed that better. Or Zaeed knew this song very well, the trumpeter continued the melody.

"You asked me what I wanted Shepard. This is what I want:" Releasing her hand he slid his fingers around her neck as he made damn sure she was close enough to hear _him_ above the music: "I want  one person who's worth saving the galaxy _for_ –  one person who's opinion matters to me so much I'd throw myself into hell itself if she wanted. _One_ person who's worth dying for." His words then echoed the words spoken by the singer: "Shepard if you let me love you, you can be damned _sure_ I'm in it  all the way." The singer added his voice to close the improvisation: _"All... the... way..."_ Although neither of them would see it, the singer was smiling like a cherub over the pair as the band readied for the last verse and the end of the song. _"All... the way..."_

Shepard swallowed hard, searching his eyes, the ground having been so completely pulled out from under her that she was left longing for reassurance that it was actually still there. Like the words of an earlier song implied: he'd definitely got under her skin. It took her a moment to clear her throat and find words to speak:

"I never knew you were such a hopeless romantic Zaeed." She made her best effort to hide just how _much_ he'd got under her skin with seductive scepticism and a coy smile, but somehow she knew he didn't buy it as they moved to the last of the singer's gentle melody.

"Not hopeless..." Zaeed drew in closer as he spoke, drawing her to a standstill as the song ended. Smiling that devilish smile of his, closed his eyes and ended his sentence with a kiss that completely took her breath away. The room was filled with the sound of clapping hands. Somewhere over in the direction of the bar there was a cheer, followed by whistling and yet more loud cheering.

 _"Alright Zaeed!"_ She heard one yell and instantly pulled away, finding herself giggling with embarrassment. She spotted the group of waiters and waitresses, bar keeps and Jomo that had drawn together at one side of the room – it was _they_ who were making most of that racket. She looked to Zaeed with a stifled grin. Zaeed dropped his head, sighed, looked towards the motley crew and scowled. "Thanks, fellas." He yelled back at them amidst the applause, although it was obvious they hadn't embarrassed him _that_ much. He turned back to Shepard with a wise smile and rolled his eyes: "Wanna get out of here?"

Shepard smiled and nodded enthusiastically: "Hell yeah. Lead the way."

Zaeed grabbed his hat and coat from his chair at their table, then grabbed her hand and led her through the crowd with the sound of jeering voices erupting as he did so. Shepard waved goodbye, and they whistled back at her. Shepard rolled her eyes, grinning despite herself and shook her head - still disbelieving of the level of embarrassment she had just experienced as they climbed the stairs. Their jeers lingering behind them as the band began anew; the singer launching into another gentle song backed this time with more brass and woodwind instruments. " _Skylark can you tell me where my love can be..?" – Hey I know this one!_ Shepard almost turned and asked to go back but then, remembering the 'audience' they'd had, quickly changed her mind.

Reaching street level she spotted the toilets on the way out and excused herself – the shuttle journey wasn't overlong, but it was best to take the opportunity to go now rather than be hopping up and down when they got back onboard. Leaving the cubicle and washing her hands she received several envious looks from women entering and leaving. _Could Zaeed really be that well-known here as to have women lining up..?! What kind of reputation does he have here, or is it just that they know he's 'somebody' by the way Jomo and the staff treat him?_ Their looks raised many questions about Zaeed but also about the company he'd usually have the choice of keeping on such a night out.

Something made her feel suddenly sorry for him. _Shallow people... Not a one to appreciate anybody for_ _who_ _they really are or what they've been through..._ She surmised and made effort to ignore them, wanting to make no friends of such character. She dried her hands and stepped back out into the corridor. She then caught the eye of some newcomers still queuing for the cloakroom, whereupon one exceptionally unwise individual barred her path. _Great. Can't go_ _one_ _night without someone picking a fight with me..._ _Shit. Here we go..._ Or so she was thinking until the man spoke. She _had_ been expecting some grudge, some repeat of the complaints made to her by that blasted reporter about the battle of the Citadel and the human lives lost in it at her behest. The truth turned out to be far more shocking: _  
_

"Wow..." He said, "What's a pretty thing like you doing on your own in a dress like that?" Shepard had to stop and replay those words in her head before her brain was actually able to comprehend what had just been said. Reeling from the confusion, at first she wasn't sure how to react. She wasn't entirely sure how to respond to being called a 'thing', although she was developing a quick and sudden urge for murderous violence which she really shouldn't do in present circumstances. Realising that her attire had somehow brought on this odd perspective of her being, she scowled resentfully: _Nope. I think I prefer having fights picked with me to_ _this any day_ _._

The man stepped towards her – his presumption evident: he meant to lay hands on her. _Damn this dress... Damn every idiot who thinks the_ _clothing_ _a person wears defines how you can behave towards them..._ The foot he put forward had already betrayed which side he was leaning on... Her mind had already done the math about which side to move to in order to dodge that incoming hand. She already knew  exactly how hard to tug the wrist attached to that arm, and where to tap his spine, to make the bastard fall flat on his face. A fraction of a second later and she would have done exactly that, but out of nowhere Zaeed appeared and raised an arm between them.

The man dropped his hand but was instantly ready for a face-off. Apparently he had the audacity to believe he had staked a fair claim for possession of the _object_ of his desires and was readying to defend _it_. That was until he looked up at Zaeed's face and - with apparent recognition - instantly wilted. In the wake of the man's inability to find words to fill his gaping mouth, Zaeed half-smiled under a scowl: "Sorry lad, I think you'd better be leaving."

"Oh. Err..." The young man sputtered. "Mr Massani. M-my mistake. Please accept my apologies."

"Not a problem." Zaeed shrugged and stroked his hand down Shepard's spine, making her shudder before she could say anything to add her feelings on the matter. "Now off you go. Pity you have to leave so _soon_ – the band's really swingin' tonight." Zaeed waved dismissively and the young man sheepishly turned tail and skittered off the way he'd come in. Guiding Shepard then in the same direction through the crowd of new arrivals, Zaeed smiled and nodded to the bouncers on his way past. They politely smiled and nodded back to both Zaeed and Shepard:

"G'night sir. G'night miss."

Zaeed smiled the broader - that had been a secret exchange between them and him. They had seen and marked his intervention, and that shitty little dickhead wouldn't be getting back into Moon Over Rat Pack ever again. Likely it was his first time, but after that demonstration of his personal etiquette, it would also be his last. Zaeed smiled with dark satisfaction. It was good the lad had run. He turned to face Shepard and chuckled when they stepped outside to find the boy long gone, asking:

"You OK?"

"..." Shepard stopped herself from answering and just shook her head and sighed. Then composed herself and politely commented: "I don't really need protecting, but thanks just the same for saving me the hassle of planting his face into the floor."

Zaeed laughed. "Wasn't you I was protecting." Shepard took that in, then they both laughed and walked along the promenade together.

"Huh." Shepard threw him a grateful look.

He shrugged: "Making a scene would've drawn unwanted attention anyway. Rather than being taken as a mere Shepard look-alike, anyone seeing you 'explain' to that kid his goddamn piss-poor understanding of women would've been asking themselves if you might just be the real thing. Figured that was probably more trouble to you than it was worth." Shepard nodded to that appreciably and rested her arm in his.

He chucked: "Thought I _am_ sorry I didn't get to see you serve him a knuckle sandwich. Watching you wipe the floor with him wearing that dress? Now  that would have been bloody _marvellous_ entertainment." Shepard nudged him with her elbow for that. Satisfied when he grunted from the force of that, she laughed out loud. Hearing her laugh made his mood all the brighter. He turned them down a small stoned road whose cobbles had been warn flat from a thousand years of use.

"I love places like this." Zaeed gestured, bringing them to a stop atop the apex of a bridge arching over a long stretch of water, edged by buildings a mixture of very old brick and stone in architecture. "Don't build stuff like this anymore," He shrugged, "but something about this place always makes me feel like 'home', even though I barely spent more than my first few years as a child in this place before getting dragged off elsewhere."

"Actually I was just thinking along similar lines myself. I wasn't even born here, but something about this place feels like home." She smiled as she stared at the water then slanted her eyes towards him: "Maybe it's the rain!" She grinned and they both laughed – it had stopped raining but it was clear from the puddles and slick wetness of the rooftops that it hadn't stopped long ago. Her smile faded a little: "It rained quite a lot where I grew up on Mindoir."

Shepard stared up the length of the waterway, noting the reflection of the orange-pink sky and antique industrial landscape that filled the view. Long shadows and silhouettes cut the sides of buildings from the ones that caught the very last of the sun's crimson-orange glow. She honestly believed in this moment, that this was one of the most beautiful sights she'd ever seen. The air was still but fresh, and there was a slight chill to the summer night's air. She shivered – so used to climate controlled ships, stations and armour as she was.

"Here. I don't need it." Zaeed removed his jacket and placed it about her shoulders and pulled her closer to him.

"I'll be fine." She was about to stubbornly hand it back, but yet again gave in to how happy doing something for her seemed to make him. She accepted it and tried to be grateful: "But... Thanks." He smiled all the more at that. _Simple things indeed._

"This is a canal." Zaeed explained, "Folks used to use them way back for transporting goods all over the city. Now it's mostly just leisure use but they used to say that canals were the lifeblood of the cities in this land. See that? It's called a 'bridle path' – used to have horses walking along them, pulling a boat full of goods along. One horse could tug several times its own weight thanks to that water."

"Like having an anti-grav trolley I guess." Shepard traced the canal with her eyes and the two of them were quiet for a time. Then Zaeed huffed and said:

"Then again maybe those horses had it easy: I reckon you probably carry a _million_ times your own weight in responsibility, every day." Zaeed smirked. Heaven only knows which of several questions he was actually asking with that – if any. Maybe it was just a statement, an acknowledgement that he knew his place in all her priorities...

"I... Just do what I have to do."

A moment's silence followed as she thought over her instinctive response, and Zaeed pulled her a little closer. With Zaeed what you saw was what you got, except for the fact that he always seemed to be able to pull something unexpected out of his sleeve. Her _thinking_ about her answer was probably exactly what his question was intended to do.

Finally he announced as the last of the light began to fade: "C'mon, or we'll keep Joker waiting."

The roads darkened around them as they walked, until the landscape took on a more familiar hue of modern lights and neon signs. It _had_ been a wonderful evening. Free from gunfire, just a nice, quiet, non-life-threatening evening that was spent off-ship in and amongst ordinary people. If nothing else, she owed Zaeed a debt of gratitude for that – he'd made her feel human again.

"I'd like to do this again someday." She commented wishfully.

"Me too." The smile he gave her told her that he agreed, and that he knew and agreed also with what she didn't want to add: _If we get the chance._


	11. Chapter 11 - Take Me Seriously

~ Finding The Heart ~

Take me seriously

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the intellectual property of Bioware, not mine.

WARNING: MA in next chapter. 16yrs+ readers only please. Adult concepts in this one.

* * *

Joker had kept his mouth shut the whole way back to the Normandy. _Wonder if Zaeed said something to him..?_ Something told Shepard that Zaeed was the kind of person who might smile sweetly at somebody who crossed him, wait for their back to be turned, then break the bastard's neck. Certainly this seemed the case if the reaction of the guy that came onto her in the club was anything to go by. The moment he realised that _Zaeed_ was whom she'd come in with, the guy fled with his tail between his legs while Zaeed had done nothing to outwardly threaten him at all - clearly Zaeed had a reputation that terrified.

Regarding Joker's silence... It was possible when one or other of them had taken a trip to the toilet during dinner, that Zaeed had made a call to Joker and gently given him the distinct impression that it would be ill-advised to spoil her mood upon their return to the shuttle. ' _Another hard-ass on board, huh? That's great, because I really need more stink-eye coming my way_...' – Those had been Joker's words when Zaeed had first come onboard. Joker also seemed to be under the impression that Zaeed was at least as tough as she was, except that he would say Zaeed took cheques and had a lot less reservation about using his skills for personal gain. _Yeah,_ Shepard thought to herself with a disapproving shake of her head; _he probably said something._ After all  she knew firsthand what it was like to stand between Zaeed and something he wanted.

Shepard did not know that Joker had had the shuttle cameras trained and zoomed in on her and Zaeed from the moment they were within range. It hadn't occurred to her that her arm in Zaeed's as she walked, her smiling and laughing, exchanging bashful glances in his direction... was possibly the first time that Jeff had seen her so cheerful since the day Garrus successfully pulled through surgery after taking a rocket to the face. It never occurred to her that this might just be the first time he'd seen her so genuinely happy about anything since before she died more than two years ago.

As such, the thought never occurred to her that this battle-weary pilot was a sentimental fool at heart or that the sight of her _so_ relaxed, so carefree... had nearly brought a tear to his eye, contrasting as strongly as it did against a certain very vivid memory he still had nightmares about. A memory where he had watched the Normandy SR explode in a ball of flames knowing that  she had still been on it and worse than that: knowing that she was still on it because she'd made sure that _he_ wasn't – that _he_ got to an escape pod. He never forgave himself for being the reason she delayed getting off the ship, for being the person she had gone back to save, the one who had cost her her life.

Not knowing these things, it hadn't occurred to Shepard that the moment he beheld her giggling and grinning like an idiot was the moment that Joker had felt a great weight lifting from his shoulders... So, ultimately, it would never have occurred to her that - regardless of the company she was keeping at the time - seeing her so at ease had been a moment Joker would not have spoiled for _anything_ in the galaxy.  That was his little secret, and he had every intention of keeping it that way.

In the back of the shuttle, huddled up for warmth to the man whose jacket she wore about her shoulders, _Shepard_ had moved onto musing over Zaeed's charismatic charm and attention to detail. She could see why Miranda had previously found this sort of care and conscientiousness so loyalty-inspiring about Illusive Man. It was all the little things – the details he'd think of so she didn't have to that suggested he could be somebody who _really_ knew her. With The Illusive Man it was anything to keep her onside – that had been his play – but Zaeed had proven himself far better at that than The Illusive Man had, and he'd done a far better job of it. _Being pampered once in a while isn't so bad_.

Stepping out of the shuttle she was met with familiar smells and a slightly warmer temperature – change enough for her to note she was still wearing his jacket and to remove it. He took it back with a smile and put it back on. Unsurprisingly she and Zaeed were the first ones back onboard, and the ship was particularly quiet. They made their way out of the hangar deck alone and unwatched (well... save EDI of course and presumably Joker too of course, _via_ EDI).

Walking into the lift, Shepard realised she was slowly getting used to moving around in this contraption of a satin garment. She was even almost managing to walk gracefully in it instead of with her usual 'soldier's swagger'. She _still_ wasn't sure she'd ever really want to wear it again in public, but it had certainly been a novel experience. Zaeed tapped the destination for the lift as she leaned against him, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of the evening. Her arm firmly locked into his, the doors closed and the lift began its ascent.

The doors opened half a minute later - too fast to be her quarters... no it was engineering deck – and Shepard was a little surprised. Zaeed nodded his head and patted her hand as he gently disentangled her arm from his:

"Thank you for giving me the pleasure of your company this evening."

She let go, puzzling over what his next move would be. As he turned towards her she nodded back: "Zaeed I had no idea you could be such a gentleman." She was doubly surprised that it looked like he actually intended to leave it at that. After everything that had transpired: The flowers, the dress, the dinner, the song... _He's got to be expecting a return._ _There's always a catch... always a catch..._

"Oh ho!" He laughed mockingly, then winked and bowed, holding the doors open in the process: "Indeed... Well... only when a lady is present."

"I wouldn't exactly call myself a _lady_ Zaeed." Shepard raised an eyebrow, pulling a sour face as she then leaned against the side of the lift with folded arms.

"Maybe not." He shrugged, then tipped his hat to her: "But you _are_ one nonetheless." He smiled with wisdom and arrogance. Shepard retained her scepticism when he added: "And tonight, you were  my lady, which makes you _doubly_ worthy of the effort..." But with that he turned to go, his knee-length black Neru jacket swirling as he did so.

 _Huh?_

In an instant Shepard realised that he really was _not_ going to stay in the lift with her up to her quarters as she'd expected, nor was he expecting _her_ to follow _him_. A gentleman he may have behaved this evening, but he certainly wasn't one on any other day. Well, except for his occasional "After you" on the battlefield when she was barking orders sometimes, but she was pretty sure that was more humour than politeness: ' _After you. Whole lot of hell could be waiting ahead and you're the one that wants to walk into it_.' He was behaving very strangely, and she couldn't help but think it was all carefully measured and planned toward some end he had in mind. _  
_

She joked as he stepped out of the lift, imagining she'd just figured out what that 'end' might be: "Aren't you expecting me to be completely swept off my feet by all of this? I rather assumed you'd be expecting something more than an early night." she tried to play _his_ game with a dirty smile and a seductive tone. She was ready to roll her eyes at his answer with amusement. Ready to have him come storming back with some smart-ass answer, pin her to the lift wall, punch the button to her quarters and give her the _proper_ kiss she'd been waiting for. _Silly old-fashioned so-and-so. All he has to do is ask... I don't mess around. Is this his way of trying to get_ _me_ _to chase_ _him_ _? Hah!_

He stopped dead still for a moment with his back turned: "No."

He sighed, and shook his head as he turned around again to face her. Seeing his expression, Shepard instantly realised she'd just put her foot in something smelly... and it might just as well have been her mouth for the words she'd used. _Tact... There should be a Cerberus upgrade for that. Heaven knows I need one..._ For just a moment hurt and confusion were written across his face – she felt it in her stomach, remembering what he'd been through that had landed them in this burgeoning relationship. She cursed herself: _He's actually fragile right now you idiot! Things have happened to him – painful things – that's how all this got started, remember?!_

He quickly covered it up with a confident, wizened smile and added with a wink as he spoke, softly: "No I expect you to take me _seriously_. But I get the impression it'll take a bit more time and effort before you can do that, so... I thought I'd leave it at that for tonight."

With that he turned and stepped out of the lift, leaving Shepard with a knot in her stomach and a frog in her throat. She had doubted what he'd said he wanted... what he'd said back there in the club, back when they were dancing. Of course she had. Why wouldn't she?! She found it hard to believe that the Zaeed she'd known before a week ago would ever say such things and mean them... Hell she'd have been suspicious of anybody doing what he'd done this evening for the same reasons. Besides... The guy tried to gain access to security footage of Miranda's ass in the shower not three weeks ago for crying out loud! Drunk or not, that's no gentleman! But maybe this wasn't all just to swoon her. _The guy has a point you know... Why_ _don't_ _you start taking him seriously? You can't pretend you don't want the same._

"Zaeed." She commanded – not entirely meaning to use _that_ tone of voice although she was grateful when it did the job. He stopped as she stepped a satin-slippered foot halfway out of the lift. Realising that this exposed her leg through the high-split dress, she shifted her weight to avoid it looking like she was just trying to seduce him. She'd caught him halfway down the corridor when she yelled. He stopped, planted his cane on the deck but did not turn around, only half turning his head to his shoulder.

"I will..." She managed, although it choked her to admit out loud that she'd misjudged him. Slowly he turned around. He wore that beaten expression he'd had the morning she found him on the floor with that bottle of whiskey – a mix of despair and direst hope. She felt all the more guilty then. Taking a deep breath she added: "I _do_ take you seriously."

Slowly he walked back, with the clink of the cane at his side as it touched the deck plates. He stood facing her then – watching her, assessing her – expressionless but for a weariness that told on its own the many times, over many years, that he'd been let down in one way or another by just about anyone to whom he'd held out his hand... for friendship or otherwise. She knew what he deserved to hear, what she should say. Nonetheless uncomfortable with the idea of a public spectacle – even with nobody around – she forcibly pulled him into the lift and banged the control for the doors to close.

"Hey?!" He exclaimed with a mix of indignation and surprise as the doors closed – not used to experiencing her unreserved Cerberus-upgraded muscle-power first hand. She'd thrown him a punch on Zorya but actually hadn't hit him anywhere near as hard as she could have. He probably never realised just how much she had restrained her strength at the time. She let him go and he brushed his suit into order. She gave him a moment to do that before she rolled her eyes, sucked in her cheeks and poked him squarely in the chest (she was done playing 'lady').

"Look," – another poke because he was still frowning and didn't flinch the first time. "Everywhere I go people are trying to buy me." She stared hard into his eyes, closer than she would hold a normal conversation. "I wake up in a _Cerberus_ base: Cerberus being an organisation who – so experience has taught me – is _not_ to be trusted when it comes to _ethics_. They tell me I've been dead for two years and that I've been 'rebuilt' - whatever the hell _that_ means. Not out of the goodness of the Illusive Man's shrunken little black and twisted heart of course. No: it's to solve one of _their_ problems, albeit something that turned out to be _everyone's_ problem – but a problem thus they knew I'd care about and happily dive into head first."

She leaned back against the lift wall and folded her arms, returning the comfortable distance between them that she'd normally maintain in a serious discussion. "My life came with a price-tag." She gestured with a sweep of her wrist, "This _ship_ came with a price-tag. Even Joker and the doctor. They wouldn't have been here if Cerberus hadn't _manoeuvred_ them here, sowed the seeds for them to join knowing that getting me to do their dirty work was what they were building up to." She scowled: "Archangel turned out to be Garrus and threw a spanner in the Illusive Man's plans, _everything_ I touched came with a condition... An un-written debt and a big 'on loan' sign hanging above it – including, if you remember:  you." That got his attention – a subtle twitch of his eye-lids. "With the exception of Garrus and Tali, I've been surgically removed from _everyone_ I've  ever felt close to."

"I'm not trying to _buy_ you Shepard." Zaeed objected, shaking his head with insult painted across his face as he frowned, folding his arms leaning back against the lift wall. He meanwhile noted silently to himself that _the lift_ was being very obliging by not asking either of them if there was a destination they wanted to choose, or if there was a reason they were just stopping on this level with the doors _closed_.

"Yes I know that – now." Shepard unfolded her arms and stood up straight. "Or at least I'm beginning to understand that." She shrugged and her arms fell to her sides and she tried _real_ hard not to let her hands curl into fists.

"Tell me you never seriously thought that the Illusive Man would have put me here to seduce you back into being put back on his leash..?!" He laughed, but it was a dark laugh, born of feeling like his intelligence had just been insulted.

She humoured him with an embarrassed laugh to salve his feelings: "No." She shook her head. "Annoy me? Yes. Shoot me if I didn't play ball? Maybe. Seduce me? ... Actually I can't think of a worse nightmare for him than you and I pairing up. You don't seem to be his biggest fan."

"We've crossed paths... to the tune of fifty or so of his agents." He shrugged. "Also the bastard cut me loose after you refused to hand over the Collector Base, so we're not exactly on good business terms either."

"Really?" Shepard raised both eyebrows. "I hadn't heard that." ...And suddenly felt rather guilty. All this time, she thought the Illusive Man was still paying him to be her personal pain in the ass.

"Because it's not common knowledge." A slight frown.

"So all the time since then you've still been here because..." Shepard looked at him suddenly surprised and confused.

"...I chose to be. Looked like you needed all the help you could get and I'm not exactly hurting for money. Shit maybe all those goddamn speeches you've given me and the crew made me believe for half a second that my life might have some meaning if I stuck around you for awhile. Hell if I know why I did it. _Boredom's_ as good a reason as any." Expressions turned sober again, and there was an awkward silence for a moment whilst neither knew exactly what the other expected them to say. Finally Zaeed let out a huge sigh and shook his head as he brought them back to what started the argument:

"Look I just wanted to do something properly – for once in my goddamn _life_." He clamped his jaw shut and the muscles flexed. Shepard could see there was something as yet still fragile hidden behind the bluster, and those words told her more about him than a thousand of his stories. She remembered the Shadow Broker file she'd read about him after helping Liara and then she remembered his retirement plans... Reading between the lines of what was written she realised they spoke of a proud man but a lonely one, coming to terms with the prospect that he'd had his time and that was that. Somebody who was close to thinking that ending their life was about all there was left to do with it.

"I'm sorry." Shepard managed, although it wasn't easy.

He sighed, unfolded his arms and thudded his shoulder into the lift wall as he stared at it. "I guess I understand how this all might look, given what you've just told me." He shrugged. "I'm sorry, too. I uh..." He rubbed the back of his neck and smirked – still not looking at her but for a furtive glance, "Guess maybe I shouldn't try so hard." He laughed, but she was pretty sure he probably meant that, and she didn't _want_ him to withdraw again. Although disconcerting at first, she had rather liked the fact that he'd put in so much effort.

"I guess _I'll_ have to try harder to take things at face-value." Shepard half-smiled, and leaned her back flat against the wall, feeling more relaxed again.

"Oh God I hope not!" Zaeed frowned and shook his head, pushing himself off from the wall as he gestured: "Least not _my_ face-value..." with mock anger and a grin pulling at the edges. It didn't seem right to laugh at such a joke. Shepard tried instead just to smile and roll her eyes as she hit the button to take the lift to her quarters.

 _Does his appearance bother him and that's why he jokes about it?_ She pondered, _Is it his way of getting over it? Or is it his way of showing that it actually_ _doesn't_ _bother him in the slightest and he's quite pleased with his scars?_ All those thoughts were followed by one more after a pause: _Why_ _is this guy so hard to figure out..?!_

"C'mon that's gotta be worth _half_ a laugh." He pressed, taking just half a step closer – back within the distance she'd learn to interpret as his being comfortable with somebody. He was relaxing too, then. That was no small relief.

Shepard gave in and laughed a little laugh for him, tongue-in-cheek before commenting through half-lidded eyes after a sigh of her own: "I thought you said I should always bet on the dumb-looking ugly dog anyway because they're the ones who always fight harder?"

Zaeed winced and shook his head, "I said... if you gotta choose, pick the dumb- _looking_ ugly one. If he looks dumb but isn't... He's a _much_ better bet." Another step closer – closer than the distance he'd ever have kept a week ago. "Ugly just means you'll have higher winnings because there won't be as many people betting on that one. People always bet on the pretty one." He shrugged and leaned against the wall of the lift next to her.

The lift door opened and Shepard smiled at him slyly as she pushed off the wall and stepped around him to walk through it. She didn't hear his footsteps follow so, with just a touch of _Commander_ Shepard, she added over her shoulder: "You coming?" She didn't say it seductively, she didn't say it as a direct command either. She just said it as she would to a friend, to let them know that they were welcome – a tone she seldom used these days.

He paused, trying to judge the invitation. Hesitating, he held the lift door open with a clenched fist and stabbed a guess at what he was being invited in _for._ "Only if that's what you want." Another nonchalant look and a shrug.

"A _smart_ dog would know that a _lady_ doesn't ask for things she doesn't want." Shepard smiled gently and felt a flush of heat come over her as she laid it out for him in that way. "But you're equally welcome just to come in for another coffee – or tea – if you'd like." She actually didn't mind where things went from here if he did follow her in, she just wanted him to know that it was _trust_ she was offering. She turned and walked away.

"Fair point." He acknowledged and smirked, tipping his hat to her as he stepped out of the lift to follow at her heels.


	12. Chapter 12 - Basic Training

~ Finding The Heart ~

Basic Training

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the intellectual property of Bioware, not mine.

WARNING: MA this chapter and next! 16yrs+ readers only please! Adult concepts and certainly adult material! If the young or inexperienced do seek to read this chapter, well... I just hope that it proves beneficially educational, not harmful like most materials found on the subject matter.

Author note: I've purposefully tried not to describe Shepard too much, after all, fans of Mass Effect will each have their own versions of Shepard, so I leave those parts up to your imagination.

* * *

Shepard pressed her hand to the holographic display and the doors to her cabin parted obligingly. Making her way into the cabin she was greeted by the scent of flowers brought in by Zaeed a few hours earlier. She smiled at them and found that she just couldn't resist heading over to have a lung-full of that lovely fragrance up close. But she knew for certain by the sound of footsteps behind her and when her cabin door took that extra second to close, that her invitation had been taken. She did not turn around to see, stuck as her mind was between two places: anxious excitement and stark fear.

She was about to ask him: _Would you like some tea, or coffee? Would you like to sit down and chat for a while?_ She had hurt him when she had doubted him minutes earlier, doubted his real intentions. An honest mistake - she wasn't used to him showing this side of himself at all - but she had seen the pain in his expression and felt miserable to be the one who had put it there. Now there were things she wanted, and things she didn't want... And one of the things she _didn't_ want was to want him without _him_ mutually wanting _her_ the same way, at the same time. She reminded herself of that when her stomach defied gravity as his footsteps drew near. _Just calm down. Give the poor guy a little space._ His footsteps halted and she opened her mouth to speak, but before she could utter a word the sound of his voice, hesitantly from somewhere behind her, asked:

"You... really do like 'em..?" He had apparently paused somewhere near the fish tank. She shrugged and smiled as she looked over the lovely bouquet, resisting the urge to turn around.

"I admit I'm not fussed about flowers – usually." She answered as she stroked her fingers over the petals of one of the red roses. "But these are a whole other deal to the kind I'm used to seeing for sale. They smell like heaven, they look absolutely stunning but more than that, they feel _real_." _Damn that sounded corny..._ but it was, nonetheless, true.

Zaeed meanwhile only stared, sweeping his eyes up and down Shepard, wondering if she could ever understand how much the words she'd spoken matched _her..._ in his eyes. 'Real' was a word he hadn't associated with _anybody_ in a very long time, given how much of his time had been spend around cutthroats, thieves and people who hungered for money above all else. You always had to take anything such people said with a pinch of salt and the women he'd dined with over the years were amongst them. _Hell I should even count my own reflection -_ he'd never having been shy about lying to get something he wanted. But 'real' was what Shepard was to him, and that was more intoxicating than any scotch, brandy or Russian vodka he'd ever tasted. Right now he felt the need to obtain some slightly more... physical proof. To be close enough to smell her, to feel with his own fingers that she was just that:  real. _And damn it all if she doesn't look more stunning than I ever would've imagined before a week or two ago._

"I'm relieved." Zaeed took the step down behind her, watching with curiosity as she stroked another petal and a leaf, it seemed she was enjoying taking in their texture with her fingers. He added as the other foot landed: "Gifts are one of the things I'm not so good at." It was true. He'd just been just lucky when he got her flowers that turned out to actually mean something to her, when most of the time – apparently – flowers weren't her cup of tea at all. But then that was the kind of luck he'd ridden most of his life.

Shepard stood up straight and felt so much as heard him take another step towards her. She heard the thud of his jacket being tossed onto the sofa – caught the motion in her peripheral vision. She was about to turn to face him but stopped, frozen by the touch of fingers landing softly upon her shoulder. They began to move – tentatively, lightly, testing her. She restrained herself from looking around over her shoulder. _Trust him. Let him touch._ She allowed this cautious exploration of her skin, although her heart was suddenly pounding hard enough for to sprint. He hovered there, behind her, for just long enough that she began to feel self-conscious...

"I um... I haven't done anything like this in a while." She confessed... The confidence she'd walked into her cabin with for how much she wanted to be this close to him, suddenly melting into nervous anxiety. The fingers on her shoulder paused for a moment then began to slide, slowly, down her arm as she felt him move just to the side. She turned her head to follow him over her shoulder but stopped herself part-way as his breath began to move upwards over he shoulder in slow, shallow bursts along her skin, fingers following close behind. He reached his other hand around her to brush the backs of his fingers over the cheek she had turned away from him... and _that_ made her take a short, sharp, breath.

But: "Me neither." he replied to her surprise, quietly, leaning a little towards her ear on the closer side. From her cheek he then drew his fingers lightly back just to where her neck met her ear, and they hovered there until she shivered. Brushing along her hairline, he then drew his fingertips down her nape until, with a hand on each of her shoulders, he held her still with a slight squeeze and he stepped closer behind her.

She couldn't believe that answer, no way. _Not for even_ _half_ _as long as me I'll bet..._ "I mean really... I  haven't done anything like this in a _really_ long time." She felt compelled to emphasise that.

 _How long_ _has_ _it been..? Do you count dead years..? Idiot! Don't even think about answering that question, you'll disintegrate into a bag of nerves!_ She could feel the material of his waistcoat against her bare spine. The buttons were cold. She shivered at their touch and felt her skin go all goosepimply as every hair on her body prickled at the temperature change.

Yet "Me neither..." he insisted again, as he drew his fingers up the sides of her neck and back down again, before adding with feigned uncertainty: "But... I _think_ I remember where everything's supposed to go..." She didn't even have to look to know the Cheshire Cat grin he was wearing or the upwards jerk of his eyebrow that had accompanied those words.

With his nose, he lightly teased the base of her skull, just to the right of where it met her spine, sending a small tremor down her body. "Do you wear perfume?" He asked quizzically, as if a little surprised by what he thought the answer would be.

"No..." Shepard's muscles tensed: "That a problem?" She asked matter-of-factly, hiding her nerves as she started compiling a list of reasons for this to go wrong. Zaeed let out this long, downward-sliding groan – loud enough to make her jump. He followed that up with an assertive:

"No." Immediately he slid his fingers around to her throat and under her jaw – an action that prickled every defensive reaction that she had, but she managed to restrain herself. Tilting her head up a little, he nuzzled hard into her nape, breathing her in, deeply. The scent of shampoo she'd washed her hair with some hours previous was waning, and he could smell the raw woman beneath. He wanted to savour it, wanted to remember it. To Zaeed that scent meant sex: it meant proximity, it meant intimacy. One whiff of anything smelling even remotely like _her_ hours, days, weeks, maybe even years from now would have him reliving _all_ the things he planned to experience tonight.

Shepard's breath hitched as his other hand rounded her waist. His face still buried in her neck, he took in that scent with a long, deep breath, then let go another lustful groan that set her body to tingling. The fingers and thumb on her throat and chin caressed down from there – slowly, lightly – from the base of her neck almost to the cleave of her breasts, then lightly back up to her collarbone.

The hand around her waist traced down with a thumb, the edge of her hip bone to the top of her thigh whereupon he spread out his hand. Her breath hitched as he drew his palm and fingers back up, faster than he'd slid them down, namely because coming back up he brought his thumb closer to where the inside of her leg met her pelvis... Sure he may have stayed his hand to her thigh, but that suggestive proximity prompted Shepard to utter the smallest whimper. The thought was only now occurring to her that Zaeed might just be a man who'd had a _lot_ of practice, and that this was not any game of Skillian poker in which she could ever hope to hide her hand. _All of these movements, all of them_ _planned_ _. He_ _knows_ _what he's doing. He_ _knows_ _it like he's studied it..._ And that was odd, because she'd heard the complaint many times that having lots of former partners didn't make a lover a good one. _So what is it with him?!_ _  
_

Sliding back up, his fingers slid under her breast and up over her nipple, tracing the low neck of her dress with a single fingertip to tease the skin just under it from there back up to her collarbone. Shepard barely knew what to do with her own hands, so they just sort of hovered over his, helplessly. Releasing her right shoulder, he stroked her spine from the base up with the back of his hand – prompting her to spasm with a shiver – then back down to between her shoulder blades... And... _Oh god..._

She felt the snugness of material about her breasts disappear as the first ribbon came undone. She felt him slowly unlace it with both hands, catching a flash of red as he tossed it aside. Again the hand that had wondered down the front of her body did so again, this time swerving from her hips at the last moment to press directly between her legs... And his aim when he did that was impeccable: applying downwards pressure at just the thumbnail's distance before and after where her pelvis bone jutted through the soft fleshy muscles at the base of her abdomen. It was only for a moment... but it got the desired effect: she took in a sharp breath, grabbed both his arms and in spasm thrust her behind backwards against him.

He nuzzled into her neck and moaned quietly with pleasure as she did that: "Uhnn... _Think_ I'm starting to remember..." Then he quickly drew his hand back up her hip to her waist. She was close to begging him to go faster, but she was determined not to. Down his hand went once more, far enough to hold over her abdomen and pulled her towards him. She felt it then, against the hind-inside of her right thigh: the certainty of where this was going... her mind already imagining the sensation of having him moving inside her.

Her hand pressed over his, the other gripping his forearm crisscrossed over the other, he inched downwards towards that fatefully vulnerable spot once more... His teeth were upon her neck, gently squeezing the muscles going down to her shoulder. Gnawling gently back up her shoulder into her neck he sighed a long, deep groan into her... just as he pressed his thumb with a downwards slide. She whimpered, louder than the last time, enough that he would certainly hear... The vibration of his voice through her flesh prompted a violent shiver. She threw her head backwards, arched her back, and thrust her ass backwards into him... sure now that he would be wetly welcomed.

She pressed one hand over his pressing against her, her other hand reaching backwards to slide her fingers over the side of his face – this was how she showed her appreciation. He followed her directions to move this time and repeated the action. Her reaction was all the more forceful. It was only afterwards that she realised she'd just done _exactly_ what he wanted... Giving him the room to work as she felt the second ribbon that had held the dress snug to her waist, come undone. He released her long enough to unlace it and in a flash of red that one was gone as well.

Her shoulder straps remained lightly in place, no longer secure, but the dress would not drop to the floor even as he teased them from her – fitted to her hips as it was and pear-shaped as her anatomy had grown to be, as she'd reached full maturity in her late twenties. Suddenly she remembered the fact that she had nothing but this dress between his hands and her naked body as the top half of her dress fell away. A combination of nervous excitement and self-conscious had her fumbling to catch it, clutching it to her breasts although she knew not why or what modesty she was trying to conserve in so doing. It was funny... _I really must be rusty..._

Paralysed with lustful anticipation, all she could do was _feel_ as five fingers traced from her spine outwards to where the edge of the dress was... then under, gently sliding towards her belly. One hand caressed her skin-to-skin, the other slid over the satin dress – each mirroring the motions of the other. First sliding up from her waist to under her elbows (with Shepard still protectively clutching the dress to her breasts), rounding her breasts then back down... The hand touching skin paused, whilst the other reached down over the satin and again applied that pressure... in that way that made her legs go weak. _Oh dear god!_ She whimpered again, her legs almost gone but as swiftly as he had touched her there his fingers were elsewhere again and she regained her balance.

"Ahh..." Zaeed groaned into her neck, then asked, softly: "Like that _..._ do you?" He beckoned her to answer, knowing _full well_ she could barely speak as he repeated this assault on her composure. Once more and she felt sure her legs were going to fail. His other hand groped at her breast while her shoulder he teased with his teeth, as he gave her reprieve enough for her to speak:

"Uhnn..." Coherent speech _was_ difficult. "You could... say that... Umn... You're good..." She struggled to compliment him.

Zaeed murmured seductively in her ear: "Uhhnn... Let's just say this is one of the things I'm better at." She was totally under the spell weaved by his hands. She was doing well just to stay standing. It didn't take long for her legs to give way, especially when during his next careful application of pressure from the front with one hand, his _other_ rounded her ass and through the material gently stroked where she longed to feel him from the inside.

Shepard yelped, "Oh!" breathed in sharp and pleaded: "Don't! I'm going to..!" ...as she fell forwards and lost her balance.

"I've got you." Arms wrapped around her waist and fast reactions pulled her back as her legs gave way, swinging her weakly-working body towards the bed. She stumbled forwards to find her feet, barely making it onto the bed on her hands and knees as the dress fell away from her upper body. She'd barely acknowledged the fact that she was _on_ the bed when he resumed his agonisingly pleasurable activity. One knee on the bed between her legs pressed up against her ass (just to the right so that he could still reach between her legs with his left hand), Zaeed slid his hands over her spine and then round to her breasts.

Stroking from her belly up to her breast, he slid the satin dress back into place, so far as his hand could hold it there as he groped gently at her breast through the silken material. He loosed the dress to return that hand to play with her clitoral erection, his other rounding her ass to again stroke her where she longed for him to enter. Shepard gasped, arching her back upwards as she pushed back against his thigh, eyes wide with shock at just how _good_ at this he was. _Nobody_ had _ever_ done anything like this with her before. She could bear it no more. Hell she never even imagined a  man could even know to _do_ this to a woman. None had that she'd ever met ever had, anyhow. _Premature orgasm's a male problem, right? He can't_ _make_ _me if I don't want to –_

"Uhnnn..." He groaned wantonly, feeling her wetness through the material, "If I'd have _known_ you weren't wearing any underwear under this Shepard you'd have never made it out the door."

"I... I'm going to _ruin_ this dress Zaeed if you keep this up..." She pleaded, trying desperately hard not to  sound like she was pleading.

"I'll buy you as many as you can ruin." He mocked, his hands never staying anywhere too long. He taunted her with the hand that slid down the back of her thigh through the material, then down and around to the inside of her thigh and back up... fingers against bare skin. Shepard's arms and thighs were shaking... Yet always and only through the silky satin of her dress did he touch her _there_ , and only ever carefully in all the right directions... the silken smoothness of the dress making his task all the easier. He only _teased_ that he might touch her there bare-handed. Her fingers clawed at the bed clothes as she arched her back one way then the other.

"Close your eyes." He told her, and she obliged unquestioning, biting her lip in anticipation of what surely must be about to happen, nervous nonetheless – she preferred first encounters to be face to face, so that she could be sure the pace would not turn uncomfortable (or painful). _Usually_ a guy would have to prove he could control himself before she'd allow entry _this_ way... but control was something Zaeed seemed more than capable of maintaining.

"Here's how this thing's gonna work:" He brought her down onto her side as he announced his intentions, "I'm going to stop doing this, and you're going to take over."

"What?" Shepard's eyes sprung open. She frowned in confusion: "Why..?"

"Because you're going to finish and I'm going to watch you. Now close your goddamn eyes." He rolled her onto her back and stroked down her body as he leaned over her.

"Zaeed..." She huffed, more than a little frustrated and none-too-keen on this... But:

"Eyes _closed_..." he whispered commandingly in her ear as he began to work his magic once more with his hands. Whispering into her ear as she writhed, ignoring how she was almost trying to claw his clothes off of his body, he explained: "I need to know how you like to be handled." He took her hand and placed it in that special sweet spot where his _had_ been... then he stroked his fingers over her eyes and down to her lips, to emphasise his intent for her to keep her eyes closed.

"Just do as I ask." He spoke quietly, "I _promise_ you: I'll make it worth your while later. Just... _trust_ me." And with that he pulled away from her with a sly smile as she was left pressing her fingers in the memory of his, playing with the temptation. She surely thought about it, until she realised that in _thinking_ about it she was already _doing_ it and decided – _what the hell_ – that she might as well do as he asked. She'd never had an audience before and in a bizarre way it wound her up all the more, knowing that he was watching, that he _wanted_ to watch her do this.

Zaeed, having stepped backwards off the bed, casually began undoing his cuffs, never breaking his wolf-like stare as he observed her ministrations. He slowly paced around the bed as he undid his waistcoat – very much enjoying the show – then paced back again, tossing the wastecoat where his jacket lay. He watched carefully as Shepard's free hand writhed over her body: these were the places, pressures and timings that he knew she was imagining for how she wanted _him_ to touch her... _Very important stuff... if I'm going to learn how to have her begging for me to fuck her over and over again..._ He smiled smugly to himself.

He liked the power, the privilege of being the only person to see Shepard – this legendary woman known throughout the galaxy – doing what she was doing right now, and that she was doing it for _him_. Shepard was going to remember this, too - she was going to remember _him_... He was damned sure about  that. He was _also_ pretty sure by her reaction that he was probably the first person to do anything like this with her. That made it all the more special. _Not like that kinky Asari bitch who sold me out to the Blood Pack_. _She probably did shows like this for money fifty years before I was born..._

No... That backstabbing blue bitch had been a different kind of fun. _Shepard_ was no ordinary somebody. There was a purity about her that made him feel like he was being permitted to venture onto hallowed ground. There was just something in her eyes, the way she talked, the way she moved... that he'd not seen in a long, long time... Not since the woman that could actually have _loved_ him was torn away from him. _Integrity..._ _She is who she is... No lies, no falseness, no pretences..._ That was one of the things that he found so magnetising about her, although he'd never in a billion years before this week have ever allowed himself to want her for it... Women like that just didn't  want a washed up old bounty hunter who'd got more blood on his hands than he could ever hide - no point chasing after what you can't have. Yet here he was, being given a chance to glimpse what he'd thought he'd never again have.

But it was more than that. _Shepard's_ purity was also coupled with flame... A fire that burned with the terribly seductive danger of a professional soldier who knew what she wanted and would do whatever was necessary to get it. He knew how hot that passion could burn when she threatened to leave him on Zorya to die... But he had _felt_ it when first she kissed him, when suddenly it was _him_ that she wanted, and he'd been able to think of damn near nothing else since.

He watched her now from beneath a raised brow and a devilish smirk as he undid his tie and tossed that aside, removing his shoes and socks shortly after that. Undoing his collar then his shirt, he spotted her open her eyes just slightly. "No peeking." He reprimanded her, pulling the shirt from his shoulders and tossing that aside. He noted with curiosity how she had not even once yet sought penetration. That was a bit unusual in his experience. Possible she was nervous?

 _There could be a more depressing reason..._ he thought to himself glumly, _like some fucking moron with shit for brains took her virginity but wasn't gentle about it._ It was feasible she might barely feel anything inside now if that was the case – that's how bad it got for some women, after being at the hands of dimwitted fucktards who figured they knew how to handle a woman just from watching porn. He _hated_ arrogant twats, namely because he'd almost been one of them, once upon a time... Though at least he'd had the observational awareness and presence of mind to _ask_ a girl as a matter of routine if she was comfortable. Nonetheless the doubt still gnawed at him from time to time, from his younger days, that he _might_ have been one of them, before the day he'd took it upon himself to _learn_ better.

Anyway if that was the reason behind Shepard's present style of arousal it would of course be disappointing but he'd still find a way to work around it – she was far too special not to try. On the other hand it could just be she just might not have the internal anatomy for enjoying penetration, mind. Not all women did after all, and women were as varied internally as men were externally. This much he'd learned. Even if 'all was well', there was still a high likelihood they wouldn't be a perfect fit. He wanted to hope that it was possible though... it'd be a crying shame to find someone so special and then them not be.

He sure as hell hoped those reasons didn't apply, and that in fact she was just being shy... _Now that's a funny thought:_ _Shepard_ _being_ _shy_ _about something?! Not goddamned likely!_ Regardless, he still had high hopes that he could get both of them enjoy his being inside her... That being _if_ he observed her carefully now, if he could figure out what she was doing with that hand. He _needed_ to know what she _wanted_ and there was only one way to find out: watching from start to finish. Carefully he climbed onto the bed, sliding his hand from her ankle up the inside of her leg. She didn't jump at that and seemed to welcome his touch so she couldn't be _that_ nervous, but just in case:

" _Do_ it." He urged her, hovering over her, shifting out of her reach so that she could only find herself to touch. "I want you to show me..." He spoke softly at a distance, reaching just close enough to slide his fingers carefully around the outside of her breast. "I need to _know_ if you want me to be rough," – he groped at her breast for just a moment but there was no real reaction to that (although it didn't put her off), _probably not that then_... "...or gentle." He stroked a finger lightly down her cheek and her neck. She moaned when he did that – _probably_ _that_ _then, maybe a little in-between_. To be honest he'd only known a few who liked it really  rough, and most (although not all) of them fit into the depressing categories he'd previously thought about, so he was quite alright with that answer. _Gentle_ might mean he could get the full pleasure of his own stamina... A thought to which he smiled: _You can sleep when you're single, old dog – don't goddamn waste the time you're awake. You can stop when you're fall-down-tired._

He slid the dress up until it fell between her knees, noting how she worked herself harder as he did this and reached then for her thighs... _You_ _like_ _being undressed by someone else's hand, do you..?_ He surmised with a grin as she lifted her knee – a request to be touched he was happy to oblige.

"I want to know..." He manoeuvred himself further down the bed and began to kiss down the inside of her thigh – something that already had her quickening her pace – "...if you want me to go down on you..." Looking up to see her reaction between kisses, he wasn't too convinced that _that_ was something she _was_ that interested in, but she seemed to like flirting with the idea. She was quite the puzzle. "I want to know when to go fast..." He slid his fingertips quickly up her thigh and back down again, prompting her to push her head back into the pillow with a frown and parting lips that made  him all the harder. There was _nothing_ more hot and than a woman sincerely sexually aroused. It actually took a _lot_ of concentration to remember what he was supposed to be doing and _not_ to tear off his trousers and fuck her in a frenzy of passion.

"I want to know... when to go slow..." This time he inched his hand up from her knee along the back of her thigh and Shepard cried out, her fingers pressed with fevered pace and she snapped her thighs together and squeezed, trapping his fingers in the process. Thankfully she released them moments later, else he'd have had bruises! _Pretty sure that_ _wasn't_ _ticklish. Fuck me she's good to watch. __Still_ _no penetration though..._ _Surely_ _she must be close by now though?_

"Do it." He urged her again, and watched. She cried out – a sound that set his pulse racing – then only held her fingers hard against herself as she pulled her legs together vice-like, and flexed the insides of her thighs in sharp and fast pulses – _Ho!_ He thought to himself – _Those are some_ _powerful_ _thighs!_ He was sincerely looking forward to being in-between them, although he was pretty sure he'd have to tense a lot of muscles to cope with it if she actually wrapped her legs around him. His had was still recovering from getting trapped there moments earlier. She gasped and groaned, relieved at last. _Well at_ _least that's_ _one_ _of the ways she enjoys the ending..._ Considering what he'd figured out so far, at least he now knew that this pressure point on the outside was likely _crucial_ if he wanted her to climax.

It delighted him to have the opportunity to study this phenomenal woman, in bed, to work out _precisely_ how to drive her completely out of control. He still wasn't sure about penetration being a good or a bad thing, but clearly none was _required_ to get the job done. That in itself was unusual – it could make some things easier, some things more difficult. _Oh but this could be the beginning of something very, very_ _interesting_ _,_ he mused, considering the opportunities it laid open for all sorts of mischief... if he could manage to make her climax with her clothes  on... _Oh I could have a_ _lot_ _of fun with_ _you_ _darlin'... when you least expect it..._ His mind tried to run wild with thoughts of ambush, like catching her in the lift on her way to see the Illusive Man or Miranda or that damn Turian or... _Stop! Pull yourself together man! Enjoy her here and now. You can play "future fun" later when you don't have the real thing in front of you!_

Shepard relaxed and opened her eyes, alert and quick to focus on him. She bit her lip in a way that told of slight embarrassment, and Zaeed was quick to soothe her, albeit by making her turn a newer shade of red: "That was _quite_ the show." He stroked open-handed from her neck down over her bare breasts. She couldn't help but moan and thrust into his hand - he'd seen cats do this with so strong a reaction, but never a woman before – even more interesting... She reached for his face, needing to return the contact. He caught her hand and pressed it to his trousers instead, just to prove the point, further aroused when she squeezed and slid her fingers along the length of him. _Good show indeed._ "Guess it's time to see if I've learned anything from it."

"What... you want to... I mean... now?" Shepard looked confused and doubtful. "But I umn... I just..."

He knelt on the bed undoing his belt as she watched. She'd heard it said that couples find each other more sexy after sex – the hormones do something weird to skew your interpretation of whatever you see. _Hell if I care what it is; goddess I want him!_ Everything she saw, turned her on. Tattoos spread up and down both of his arms and across the top of his collarbone. There was hair on his chest and lots of it - that was novel. _Think it suits him._ The hair tapered down towards his belly where one of his more obvious scars could be seen going diagonally rightwards up towards his ribcage. He had scars _everywhere_ _–_ it was hard not to notice their sheer number. Another group of smaller scars (still several inches long, each) crossed his left pectoral muscle – three in parallel – one of which disfigured the nipple and hair pattern for how deep it must've been. _Claws..?_ She struggled to take in everything on display with her eyes, in but knew immediately that it was – all of it, welcome. Different... but welcome.

She observed him with mild scepticism when he shrugged indifference to her question: "Now. An hour from now. Maybe again after that." She could see the physical conviction he had behind those words. Speechless and with a healthy amount of (cheerful) worry – she wondered about what _else_ he had in store for her as the trousers... and anything else he'd been wearing up until then... came off.


	13. Chapter 13 - Wish I had That On Video

~ Finding The Heart ~

Wish I Had That On Video

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the intellectual property of Bioware, not mine.

WARNING: MA this chapter and previous. 16yrs+ readers only please. Adult concepts and certainly adult material! If the young or inexperienced do seek to read this chapter, well... I just hope that it proves beneficially educational, not harmful like most materials found on the subject matter.

Author note: I've purposefully tried not to describe Shepard too much, after all, fans of Mass Effect will each have their own versions of Shepard, so I leave those parts up to your imagination.

* * *

Zaeed's eye's flickered open: _Weapon. Exit._ His eyes darted, trying to focus in the dull, eerie blue light coming from somewhere out of sight _._ Unfamiliar surroundings, unfamiliar sounds. _Why can't I feel my arm?_ He tried to focus on something right in front of him. The panic subsided: a naked female body lay in front of him, sheets tucked around her waist, her back turned towards him. His arm was under the pillow where her head lay. _Well... That explains the dead arm..._ Carefully he extracted his arm, trying not to wake her – _At least not 'til I can remember her name..._ Slowly he rolled onto his back, able to sit up just a little. It was a proper human bed too, not one of those stupid goldfish bowls the Asari sometimes preferred. _Where am I? Damned blue light..._ He squinted and tried to block it with a hand.

A small bubbling sound caught his attention, and a constant trickling noise was coming from somewhere towards his feet. _The light..?_ Blinding himself for a moment he looked straight at it, briefly catching a glimpse of some familiar shapes. _Fish._ _A fish tank..._ Suddenly it dawned on him where the hell he was: _The fuck am I doing here?! Am I dreaming..?_ He concluded it was definitely Shepard's cabin as he stared ahead and movement caught his eye - that freaky little liquid metal sphere she'd picked up from some Prothean ruin was floating above the coffee table. Next he noticed a vase of flowers and shockingly recalled the fact that _he_ had bought them. For a moment his gut tied itself in a knot as the whole picture dawned on him: _So this bird I'm lying next to -_ he looked at her shape with no small sense of conquest - _is Shepard_. He couldn't help but smirk with self-satisfaction.

Zaeed propped his arms behind his head and relaxed. Relaxed simply meaning 'not using any muscles', not 'relaxed' per se... Oh how he ached! Ached like when Urz – Shepard's Tuchankan pet varren, ( _bloody dumb animal_ ) – saw fit to bowl him over off the bloody landing platform at the Urdnot camp. Ten feet down he'd landed on top of a pile of duff ship parts with that stupid creature breathing its varren death-breath in his face, pinning him down and trying to lick him into another dimension... _Very nearly broke its neck for that, dumb mutt..._ Zaeed smiled - well at least one creature in the galaxy greeted him with enthusiasm. Of course it _had_ also been quite a bit of fun to see how much it baffled the hell out of the other crew, the fact that it liked Shepard and him but nobody else. Maybe that rabid mongrel knew he and Shepard were going to be fucking each other even before they did? Who knows... Anyway, fucked they had. Zaeed remembered it all with a grin as his eyes lazily scanned the room.

 _There. Up against the fish tank._ He'd shoved her up against the glass with her hands raised and pretended to body search her. She laughed a wicked laugh he'd never have expected which just spurred him on all the more so. "Usual procedure is to spread the suspect's legs apart and slide your hand up and down their thighs, checking for weapons." _Well that's the bedroom version anyhow_ \- saying it deadpan as he'd done just that.

"What happens when you can't find any?" she'd asked, coyly. He pinned her up against the glass again, sliding his erection against her, groaning to feel she was again juicy as the wetness spread through the material of her dress.

"Well If you're _really_ sure they're hiding something you order an internal search..." and with that he slipped on (another) condom, shoved her dress out of the way and found his way inside her. He groped her arse... It was a very _nice_ arse. He liked it so much he decided he wanted to be able to see more of it, so they migrated... _Down there on the floor, next to the coffee table... That'd be why my knees hurt so much, then..._

He grinned at the thought, and inwardly moaned lustfully at the memory. Shepard was _hot_. Hotter than any damn prostitute Asari or human he'd ever paid to fuck. Just the sight of his cock slipping in and out of her was more than enough to get him off, but to be able to slide the whole of himself deep inside her... He shuddered at the thought with excitement... _Well that's a whole other level of sexual interest._ He'd reach down around her hips to pleasure her and she only just beat him to it - what with all the noises she was making... wound him up hard as he could get. _And a juicy, perfect, fit she was to top it all off._

His eyes glanced towards the bathroom. He recalled how she'd sauntered off to the bathroom after that - just _slightly_ unsteady on her legs. It had been pretty late - not that you could tell by looking out the cabin window (it was always full of stars - day or night). He'd gone to the bathroom himself straight after. Washed himself off, figuring that'd do for the night. But when he'd come out of the bathroom to find her leaning over the desk staring at her models... Well. _That dress. That arse. Those legs... What's a man to do?_ He'd slid his hands over her, she'd murmured his name slightly disapprovingly, but that just spurred him on. He was hard again. _Yes - that fast. When you've not had sex with a real woman for as long as I'd gone without, well even seeing a Batarian bend over might make you a little hot under the collar. Sexy minx like Shepard in that dress and you've got no bloody choice in the matter._ He'd _had_ to have her.

He shoved the dress out of the way and gently pushed inside her - no problem, she was already plenty wet from earlier. "Hey!" She'd yelled, "Protection!" _So she noticed?_ He'd grinned an evil grin: "If you're worried what I'm carrying you should know better - that Dr Chakwas of yours is too much of a sadistic bitch to let me onboard with anything that could get passed around." Deeper... "As for pregnancy I know what they make Alliance girls do, so I _know_ you're not worried about that." Sliding out.. _._ Shepard growls his name and scowls over her shoulder... but she's not stopping him. He knew very well what she could do to him if she really wanted him to stop. She didn't, he was winning her over to the idea and he could feel it.

Her nipples spiked through the dress. Slowly he pulled out, delighted when she mouthed to gasp and tried to stop herself, her head snaking to one side. Gently he pushed in again, groaning himself with the sensation of being able to feel her - all of her wetness and her warmth. She murmurs his name, a poor attempt at pleading for him to stop. "And besides..." He adds, barely managing it through his own peaking arousal, "I'm an old man. Plus I had a small _accident_ with some Polonium rounds few years back. Near miss. Practically made me sterile. Check my records if you want." Out again and she can't contain the gasp this time as he reaches around to pleasure her. "So why don't you just let yourself enjoy it. I know you don't really want me to stop..." In again... deeper... She'd groaned then, giving in to the pleasure of him moving inside her with nothing between them. Sweet ecstasy with every stroke as the foreskin pulled backwards each time he thrust slowly, deeper inside her.

It'd been a matter of minutes before he felt her pulsing. She was still begging his name, though he wasn't sure for what. "Say my name Shepard." He commanded her as he began to up the pace. "Say it _louder._ I want the whole goddamn _ship_ to know who's fucking you!" She obliged as he felt the pulsing quicken and the grip around him tighten. He couldn't hold it as he emptied himself into her. Her legs weakened, she swooned sideways, taking him with her as she had to put one knee on her chair to catch herself. He could see the reflection of her breasts in the darkened console screen, and persisted for just a few more long, deep, slow thrusts... to get every last drop. Finally they'd managed to stumble their way back to the bed, both exhausted. He'd lain next to her, still hard so he'd pushed back inside her. He knew there'd be no _way_ he could finish again, but she moaned and groaned with satisfaction so he just kept the motion going until he began to feel his erection diminishing. _Just as well though,_ he remembered, because it was only moments later that a very sleepy Shepard murmured:

"I can't... I can't... stay awake... I don't want you to stop but I..." and that was it. He'd no sooner pulled out and wiped himself off than his head hit the pillow and they'd both fallen fast asleep.

 _Allahu akbar than Christ almighty. Wish I'd had me a video of all that..._

As the last dregs of sleepiness drained out of his mind, Zaeed's mind drifted to the bigger picture, setting all these latest revelations into context. The past few months had been one hell of a roller coaster for him – and never in a million years would Zaeed have bet he'd wake up one morning to find himself in Shepard's bed. He turned to lean over the sleeping do-good warrior-woman-with-a-scathing-temper, propping up his head with his elbow. There was something different about her sleeping face... something that set her apart from every other woman Zaeed had ever known. There was a gentleness about her that reminded him very much of Alice but, there was also something else – something he'd never seen in _any_ woman before her. He wasn't quite sure what it was, but studying her didn't seem to make it any clearer so he let it go, and just admired her beauty instead. Scars or no, Shepard she was definitely that: a beauty.

 _Uhnn..._ He found himself recalling last night's activities again. _There's something the matter with me - I want to fuck her while she's sleeping._ _I might be a dirty old man but that's a new thing._ He huffed and tried to set those thoughts aside. _Damn this woman could really get under my skin and drive me crazy if I'm not careful..._ Endurance, stamina, tolerance to pain... These were things he openly boasted, but if he wasn't careful he'd happily shag her 'til his nob dropped off. _At ease, soldier..._ he commanded the hardening lump beneath the sheets. There _was_ such a thing as 'too much sex' – it was liable to leave a man with dick-ache, or at very least severe difficulties concerning directional peeing. He rolled back again to lie with his arms behind his head and tried to concentrate on the peaceful sound of her bubbling fishtank, and _not_ about waking her up for another session.

His moving must have stirred her. First she made this cute little noise that made him smile like an idiot as he tried not to laugh. _Best to let sleeping Shepards lie_ – he told himself as he observed her quietly through the corner of his eye. After a time he heard a faint sniffle. It caught him a little by surprise and his breath hitched as she suddenly rolled over and slid her fingers from his belly to his chest. She settled again there, and he couldn't help thinking it was kinda sweet the way she snuggled up to him. She paddy-pawed his chest through the hair like she were some kind of big cat, then started snoring quietly in a way that could almost have been mistaken for a purr. _Tally one to wind her up about later –_ he sniggered to himself - _she snores._ But it wasn't long before he got distracted by the view – quite a _nice_ view at that – of her breasts pressed up against his side. _So much for_ _not_ _thinking about sex, then_. He rolled his eyes, mentally subduing his erection once more as she nuzzled up against him and sighed. Suddenly, her eyes sparked open and she jolted.

"Heeeey..." He stroked her hair back from her eyes and hushed her as she looked up at him – evidently shocked. Blinking a couple of times she eventually came down from high alert. He embraced her and gently pulled her towards him until, hesitantly, she lay her head back down, this time on his chest. Judging from the wrinkles on her forehead he could just about see from here, she was thoroughly confused and momentarily worried. She was quiet for a while although he could spot her expression changing whilst she was thinking. He had to try not to laugh as he swore he saw her raise her eyebrows at one point – he was pretty sure what that meant she was remembering. After that her shoulders stopped tensing and she relaxed. It seemed both of them needed to work through the explanation for this situation upon finding themselves in the waking world. After all, this was pretty far off the chart of their expected 'joint territory'.

"Sorry..." She eventually mumbled, "Not used to waking up with someone here."

"S'alright." Zaeed let go a deep breath, "I'm not used to waking up anywhere else other than a battlefield or a merc's bunk, but I was pleasantly surprised." He kissed her crown as he lay his arm around her and squeezed a little. It was easy to let his mind take off with this feeling, exploding with hope of better days and renewed opportunities – the usual sort of stuff that gets you killed – so he tried to take a step back. You know, _try_ to take it slow, because as sure as his gut was telling him she was perfect and this was right he was still sure it could all blow up in his face. Things had a habit of doing that to Zaeed. _Still time for this to all go pear-shaped,_ he reminded himself, _but for now this is nice..._ He lay there grateful for this small mercy the universe had granted him, while Shepard lay idly fingering his chest hair into ringlets. _Ringlets!_ Good job he didn't care – _Hmph. I_ _must_ _be getting soft in my old age_...

Shepard, for her part, lay thinking...

 _What the hell just happened? Is everything I think I remember happening actually true?!_ She was stunned. She had to rewind time to explain how Zaeed had wound up in her cabin. He'd been causing havoc, she recalled, then she'd confronted him, later found out what was wrong, and then... he'd surprised her. That was it. He'd surprised her. He'd caught her off-guard, and showed her a side of himself she'd never have expected to see. How quickly things had snowballed from there in a matter of days. What shocked her now was just how much he had _wanted_ her. Or seemed to. _No he couldn't have been faking that. No way._ She  had thought it more lust on her part for why this had all started, she was evidently wrong. Given the chance to jump her bones he'd leapt at the opportunity. _Maybe this is just the way he is? All or nothing?_

She remembered _everything_ he did. It had been good to be _wanted_ like that, to be hungered for. He made her want it. He made her _need_ it. It was intoxicating: that feeling of _being_ the drug that someone else was addicted to. She wasn't entirely certain she'd ever felt like it before. Not like this, at least. It consumed her thoughts. She completely forgot for a moment who she was, that she was supposed to be fighting something, _for_ something, that there were things she should be worrying about, nightmares that would normally be haunting her, responsibilities that should have been weighing on her conscience from the moment she opened her eyes... Instead all she could think about was how her previous last waking hours had _felt_ , the sounds he'd made that sent shivers down her spine, how much effort he'd put into pleasing her and how quickly he'd figured out how to do it physically, the sound of her own voice begging him not to stop, how he'd been in control of it all and she'd been helplessly swept away by his demand for her.

Slowly coming back into focus her eyes began to take him in... The muscles, the geometric patterns of the tattoos, the slight telltales of age like the multitude of scars he wore from battles long ago. It took all her willpower not to slide her leg over him - she was _certain_ if she did that she'd get a reaction. She _wanted_ him inside her again, _needed_ him to want her like that again. To hell with playing it safe, taking it slow, to hell with -

 **Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep...**

"Urrrrghh..." She groaned, annoyed, rolled over and hit the snooze button on the blasted alarm clock. The galaxy could wait ten more minutes... Except of course it couldn't. _Reality_ had 'beeped' itself straight into her brain through that horrid noise and it wasn't welcome. Suddenly her mind was panicking, remembering all the things she needed to do and _hadn't_ already started organising them as she usually would have, from her very first waking moment – so many things to do. Lives at stake, immanent invasion, extinction. _Focus. It's time to get up and go._ But for the first time since before Eden Prime something stopped her with the words whispering in her mind: _Can't I just shut it all out, put it aside, just for a little longer?_ The alarm was on snooze. _Ten more minutes wouldn't hurt would it..?_ Well it was better than nothing, and although she was slightly frustrated, it was probably a good thing not to have time to act upon it: moving had told her she might just be a little too sore to do anything and really enjoy it anyway.

She huffed, and rolled back into his arms, feeling strangely settled once there. It was only then that her waking mind remembered she'd actually half expected him not to be here when she woke up. The fact that he was still here, the tender kiss to her crown he'd given and the small hug all pointed to this quite different, and still quite novel side of the man she'd previously thought she knew.

"I'm glad you didn't leave." She found herself saying aloud.

"Leave? Why would I have left?" Zaeed pulled his head back, frowned and stared down at her like she was a fool.

"Well you know, I'd have thought normally..." She paused, and decided there were too many bad impressions to make by ending that sentence, "Forget I said anything." Zaeed began to stare down at her and she realised she may well have just insulted him, especially recalling how he had demanded to be 'taken seriously'. _Thank you memory, for presenting yourself_ _after_ _the point it would have been useful to remember that._ So she quickly added: "Old habits die hard. Alliance regs." – It was only a half-lie.

"Regs huh?" He let out a long, gusted sigh and rested his head back against the headboard. "Never joined the military. Too many rules. Was I supposed to leave then?" He had this sly look on his face. He was mocking her, certainly, especially when his eyes slid down from the ceiling to meet hers. She smiled ever so slightly but when she didn't rise to the bait he added: "So what kind of regs are we talking about..?" The tone of voice meant she knew _exactly_ where this conversation was headed. "Regs like... 'It's against regulations to fuck your commander up against her fish tank' or regs like 'If you do fuck your commanding officer you should leave before she wakes up and decides to eat you like a praying mantis or she-spider?"

Shepard snorted air through her nose and stifled a laugh. "Mmm. That sort of thing, yes."

He tutted, "Ohhhh... right. Glad I got that cleared up."

Before he had a chance to carry on this mischief she seized an opportunity to change the subject and learn something new: "You know your _record_ says you served in the Alliance. Can't say I wasn't a little suspicious of that myself but why does it say that you served when you didn't?"

"Oh... Well I might've paid a few credits to get my name added to Alliance files. Made a few situations easier to get around back when I was freelancing." Zaeed wasn't about to tell her the real reason just yet – in fact if he could get away with it he would _never_ tell her  that. She wouldn't like it, that's for sure – not one bit. There was a pause and Shepard seemed to reluctantly accept that excuse. He smiled at her mischievously. "So anyway these regs." Shepard meanwhile concluded to herself: _Yup. Change of conversation subject... FAILED_. "Are there any exceptions? You know in some _Batarian_ cultures it's not actually considered 'sex' unless you do it face to face, hanging upside down from the ceiling."

Shepard shook her head and rolled her eyes determined not to laugh at such a clearly racist joke. "You're pulling my leg now although I've never heard of _that_ one before. Anyway I don't appreciate racist jokes." She scowled, disapprovingly.

"It's not racist. It was a Batarian that told me that! They don't just _look_ like spiders you know..."

"Uhuh." Shepard glared, then thumped him, because now she couldn't tell if he _was_ telling the truth.

"I'm telling the goddamn truth!" He scowled down at her.

"Anyway," She began, and thumped him again just for good measure, "It's all 'fraternisation' in the Alliance." She sighed... That was one of the main reasons she'd not even got to first base with Kaidan – at that point in their careers both of them had simply had too much to lose.

Zaeed had winced from the blow to his kidney but it didn't deter him for long – glutton for punishment that he was: "Oh dear..." He said patronisingly, "Then I guess 'fraternising' with an officer over said officer's console would have been a biiiiiig no-no if you were still with the Alliance then..?" He had a way of putting things sometimes which she couldn't help but laugh at. She got revenge by clenching her fist, purposefully snagging his chest hairs as she did so. "Argh!" He exclaimed grumpily – "Hey those are attached and I'd like 'em to stay that way!"

"Then quit playing me up." She scowled up at him.

"I can't help it. I'm curious." He laughed and shrugged. Then the innocence melted away as he nuzzled the top of her ear and spoke softly, "You didn't complain about me being curious last night..."

Shepard rolled her eyes and raised an eyebrow: "Oh, I see. So _that's_ your explanation for last night then." She laughed although hadn't really meant to come out with that. Somehow he'd managed to drop her guard enough that she'd just connected brain to mouth with no filter in-between.

"Explanation for what?" He asked, straight-faced. She was going to regret answering that, and she knew it, but hey it was good to be having fun, and part of her did genuinely want to find out if last night was 'normal' behaviour for him.

"Don't play innocent with me: ' _The tour'_." Shepard swept a hand, gesturing to the rest of the room.

"What makes you think I wasn't just doing what any normal man would do if they had half a chance, faced with _you_ in _that_ dress?"

He just flattered her – that was more than she'd have expected. Shepard was quiet for a moment, biting her tongue. But the truth had a habit of escaping her lips even when she didn't really want it to: "Because that was unlike any other night with anybody I've ever had." She cringed to think just how much that may have inflated his ego. After that his head might not fit through her cabin door...

He smirked for a while as if trying to think of an answer – perhaps her honesty and the compliment it implied had surprised him. After a moment's pause for thought he shrugged and rolled a little towards her as he remarked, low and quiet in her ear, in a very dirty tone: "I like to _travel_." Shepard pulled away, stared up at him with an eyebrow raised and half scowled, but at this angle she couldn't pull off 'menacing' – to Zaeed she just looked funny.

She sighed and looked around the room as she conceded: "So it would seem." There were several items that were no longer in their designated places, and were instead strewn around the room.

"Are there regs against tickling?"

Shepard barely got off a "Wha-?!" at the change of subject before he lunged for her tummy. But amid all the delightful yelps and thumps he was getting out of her he just couldn't help thinking about how she just made him feel so goddamn young again. This crazy, pain-in-the-neck of a woman had got him thinking that starting over could just about be something within his grasp, and that maybe just _maybe_ he had just a smidgen of a bloody chance of getting it right this time. _Retirement at Berkenstein when all this is over would be a hell of a lot more fun with_ _her_ _... That's for sure!_

He pinned her down – arms above head – one-handed, rolling over her to reach down and around the tangled sheet to tickle behind her knees as she pulled an arm free and one-handedly tried to bat off his attempts. He was still winning and she was still squealing when EDI butted in: "Shepard do you require assistance?"

"Umn..." Shepard mumbled, suddenly frozen. Zaeed rolled his eyes and dropped his head into her shoulder, grumbling quietly into her ear:

"You should really get EDI and Legion together I think they'd make a _grand_ couple..."

"I _think_ she may already be taken." Shepard whispered back with a wink which got a puzzled look from Zaeed while she answered to EDI: "Umn no, I'm _fine_ EDI. Thank you for checking on me. That'll be _all_."

"Logging you out, Shepard."

Shepard sighed and muttered under her breath in anger at the reminder that her room was probably bugged all over: "The Illusive man's probably got tapes of everything that goes on in here."

"You think so?" Old man hearing was evidently _not_ something Zaeed had yet developed. He began biting her softly around her shoulders and neck, but EDI had reminded her of something she was thoroughly unhappy about. She wasn't about to thaw.

"Probably." She sighed with cold, angry eyes.

"Hmm... Everything?" _He_ wasn't deterred by either the topic of conversation or her change of mood.

"Mm-mm." She nodded, suddenly depressed, pulling that sort of pissed off polite smile he'd seen her pull when someone she liked brought her bad news.

He stopped, pulled his head up and looked around the room, scowling. "Huh." He frowned, "Guess I'll have to ask him if I can get a copy then." and pulled his jaw to one side in a quizzical manner. He really had her going for a moment, until he turned back to her with that smirk he tended to pull when he'd just got the drop on someone.

Shepard thumped him again – in the chest, harder this time – and the " _Argh!"_ she got for it did at least make her smile and feel a _little_ better. He laughed and went back after her knees again, Shepard yelping and giggling like a schoolgirl despite herself... Until the rude interruption of her bedside alarm brought her crashing back to reality again.

"God damn stupid alarm clock - I'm already _awake_!" She growled at it, feeling suddenly frustrated and hounded as she pounced to cut off the piercing sound. She suddenly felt very tired, as the weight of command and a billion other things settled back onto her shoulders. 'Command mode' kicked in but as she turned back to face Zaeed prior to getting up, her eyes locked with his and she froze, clutching the sheet to her breasts with indecision. Zaeed propped himself up on one elbow with an unreadable expression, and neither said anything for what seemed like an eternity. There was a spark, no doubt about it.

Her eyes drifted to the muscles around his ribs which he boasted well, sat like that. Powerful shoulders, strong arms... It was a physique born predominantly through survival against the odds for every moment of most of his life, _not_ exercise routines (although he surely had to do them now he was onboard the Normandy and not perpetually in combat), which made him doubly interesting. The scars certainly added credence to that. The cogs of anxiety and command ground to a halt as her mind focused on pulling all her observations and recent events together.

In summary: A hardened, well-seasoned mercenary who she'd once punched for having lied about and compromised a mission, someone who she'd come within inches of killing for his insubordination, was now quite happily, lazily, lying in _her_ bed, covers tucked around his waist – and she was  glad of it. She knew in that moment that nothing between them would ever, _could_ ever, be the same again. She wanted him too much. He wanted her too much. Her eyes traced around her cabin the places that would become lasting memory, that marked him and their being together last night on practically everything in here. Yet in this particular moment she liked that, _a lot_ , although there was a small muffled voice somewhere in the back of her head telling her that she might regret it later.

She rejected that warning thought, but it did prompt her to drag herself back to the here and now. She noticed that a certain smugness had crept across his face when he'd noticed her eyes wandering over him during that daydream. She quickly put her eyes somewhere else. _Mind on business._ Her responsibilities clawed their way back into her thoughts in remembrance that the alarm had already been put on snooze once, ten minutes earlier. Shepard sighed and shook her head, gathering from the clock that she might already be running a few minutes late. She made an effort to be polite as 'commander mode' reasserted itself.

"You... don't have to go when I do. You can stay and have a shower if you like." She thumbed towards the bathroom door behind her.

"Now see if you'd've said I could shower _with_ you..." He grinned, folded his arms behind his head and leaned back with a lustful sigh. Shepard's eyes drifted to the clock and she pulled an apologetic smile as she shook her head with a shrug.

"Hmph." He looked quite disappointed. Shepard _did_ wonder if Zaeed's idea of a 'relationship' involved mostly sex and not much else. Not that she'd ever done any better herself, but at least she had an inkling that there _should_ be more to the ones you want to keep than just that. He shrugged as he cocked his head on one side, staring over her shoulder as if focused on some other thought – "I guess I _might_ stay." – doubtless he was cooking up some new mischief to wind her up. Still staring off into the distance with a carefully timed pause he then added: "Maybe try on some of your underwear while you're gone..." Oh he was _so _ good at pulling her leg. She thumped him one for that in the belly. His muscles tensed as he let her strike. Chuckling at the sting with a sly look on his face he grinned and grabbed her retreating arm. Pulling her off balance, then, he pulled her across his lap as he sat upright, speaking through gritted teeth: "Nobody hits me and gets away with it – especially not as many times as _you've_ hit me today – you owe me a kiss, _missy_." He had this mischievous lust in his eyes as his jaw set.

Shepard tried to restrain the smile that was creeping onto her face, tried remember she really needed to get a move on. She snaked her hands around his neck and kissed him lightly on the lips as she knowingly allowed the sheet to fall down to her middle. He definitely had a rugged charm, she was struggling to resist it. As she moved to pull away he restrained her and added patronisingly: "Oh I think you can do better than _that_..." So she kissed him, lightly again, only this time gently pulling at his lip with hers as she withdrew. The heat between them was once again intense. His lips melded to hers and his tongue to hers a moment later in frenzied passion. He pulled her hard against him. She felt the solidity of his intent rise to her through the sheet as she wriggled in his lap... and found that she just wanted to forget... _everything else_.

 _Screw the galaxy..._

 _I want_ _this_ _..._

But as those words slipped into her thoughts she snatched them away in panic.

 _No!_

Her heart was no longer pounding with excitement, but with fright. "Mnn!" She pulled away, "I uhh... I should go." She frowned, although she couldn't make herself escape his arms without upsetting him.

"What if I don't want you to..." He asked gruffly, dropping his head to gently bite her breast as he slid a hand under the tangled sheet from her knee to her...

"No." She said firmly – perhaps a little too firmly – and practically jumped up out of his arms to kneel on the bed. She backed away to the edge of the mattress whilst slowly trying to force a smile, albeit unable to meet his eyes. Zaeed, who had begun chuckling evilly to himself, suddenly stopped dead. Her eyes flickered in his direction and she caught the concern in his look, he was starting to suspect it was more than just her determination to do her shift that had made her want to get away. Quickly she hid her fear and soothed his worry. "You..." She turned a stern face to him and began to shake her finger at him with a hand on one hip, which would have been a lot more commanding if she hadn't been butt naked at the time: " _You_ are very good at distraction tactics."

"Just figured that out for yourself have you?" He grinned. Relaxing again he leaned back on the pillows with his hands behind his head. There was a sizeable bump in the white sheet that covered him from the waist down – a bump he evidently wanted her to see.

"You're _also_ a nymphomaniac." Shepard stared at him deadpan. He grinned, eyeing her up and down like a hungry varren.

"How'd you know it's not just the company..?"

She blushed, and bent over to collect some articles of clothing on her way to the bathroom. He sighed a groan at the view.

"No." She said sternly to that sound with a raised eyebrow and a smile, and marched off towards a quick shower, bowel movements and oral hygiene (locking the bathroom door behind her).

"Damn you Massani. I don't even know what to do with myself..." She muttered to herself as she caught her breath and her own reflection reaching for the bacteriophage toothpaste. Thinking about how she'd nearly shied from her duties set a slight tremor in her hands. She felt... different somehow, and that frightened her. Shirking duties was not in Shepard's character. The fact that she had even thought about doing so had left her a little shaken. Oh she had _zero_ questions about their physical compatibility after last night. He'd been good - _too_ good in fact. _Good enough to get under your skin, and to get in the way of your better judgement,_ she thought, staring at herself soberly, and then: _Better watch your step from here on in._ The thought suddenly occurred to her then that maybe... he wasn't the only one of the pair of them with a vice _._


	14. Chapter 14 - Memento

~ Finding The Heart ~

Memento

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the intellectual property of Bioware, not mine.

WARNING: Rated MA. 16yrs+ readers only please. Foul language, adult concepts.

Author note: I've purposefully tried not to describe Shepard too much, after all, fans of Mass Effect will each have their own versions of Shepard, so I leave those parts up to your imagination.

References: Two nods to Tolkien's Lord Of The Rings: I remembered Eowyn's fears of a cage when writing about how it seemed Miranda might feel having to go back to the The Illusive Man after she quit, and I remembered Theoden urging Grima to be free of Saruman in the film adaptation when I wrote Shepard vowing that Miranda would one day be free of the Illusive Man. A little nod is given also to 'The A Team' old TV series first aired by NBC in 1983.

* * *

It had been a remarkably slow day being on command duty. Several of the crew were late returning to the Normandy, having had rather too good a time, planetside. _Would have been just as late myself, if I hadn't spent the night in my own quarters,_ she smiled and again, as she had made effort to throughout the day: put those memories aside. Shepard could hardly begrudge them for it - one day was all she'd managed to get from the Illusive Man in the end. Having a little freedom was good for morale, and it wasn't like she or Miranda were going to report them for it anyway – _not anymore..._ Shepard wouldn't because Shepard would never want to, Miranda wouldn't... because Miranda was no longer in a _position_ to report anyone for anything to anyone but Shepard.

They (Shepard, Miranda, and Jacob) had agreed to keep it quiet that Miranda _had_ actually handed in her resignation when The Illusive Man ordered her to stop Shepard from destroying the Collector's base. Back on the ship, they'd confirmed what each knew: that sooner or later they'd likely have to go crawling back to him and so save Miranda's pride, they'd kept the fact that she'd resigned a secret. _Well... Not_ _crawling_ _._ Shepard had _refused_ to crawl...

She _had_ eventually "offered" The Illusive Man the 'opportunity' of ongoing ties – it was that or he'd get to see his ship wind up in Alliance hands... She had, of course, first allowed him time to cool down from the loss of his precious Reaper-making Collector base. He had been sorely mad about that at the time, and control freak that he was he would surely still hold a grudge against her for the way she'd cut communications with a defiant 'I'm sorry, I can't hear you: I'm getting a lot of bullshit on this line'. She was amazed he was even willing to speak to her after that.

Nonetheless she had _had_ to admit that she needed him, needed Cerberus resources - to him but also to herself. _He_ meanwhile had needed to  not look like he'd completely bungled one of the most expensive investments he'd ever made for a Cerberus project. It was a mutual – albeit hostile – agreement.

 _Still think you're just giving him a better opportunity to stab you in the back later..._ That was all Jacob's take on the matter when Shepard made the choice. Miranda, however, had only _stared_ at Shepard for the longest time... Her expression had been unreadable but for a single moment when Shepard caught a look that reminded Shepard of an old Earth vid she had once seen... of the very last tiger that ever lived: A once wild, proud and formidable predator, who had known too long the bars of her cage and had, over the long, hope-withering years of her captivity, finally accepted them.

Finishing yet another report to The Illusive Man Shepard recalled that moment glumly: _Breaking away to stand beside me only to have me drag her back to him later was_ _not_ _a positive reinforcement of Miranda's faith in me._ Shepard vowed - just as she had done in private later that day - that it would not be the last experience Miranda would have to judge her by. She vowed also not to let it be an experience Miranda would use to judge her  own decisions either. _Sooner or later, she_ _will_ _be free of him. I swear it. And she'll learn that doing the right thing in the right way for the right reasons is_ _always_ _worth it.  
_

Miranda wasn't the only person feeling unhappily stuck in cohorts with The Illusive Man: Shepard _longed_ to be back with the Alliance. She'd even tried to explore options of Alliance funding, to find a way to be brought under their wing as a Corsair, having acquired some contacts, names and ideas from Jacob. Unfortunately Alliance brass (and undoubtedly Udina and other similar-minded, snivelling politicians) would rather impound the Normandy and put Shepard and the rest of the crew in holding cells, than let them be out here where they were needed, doing the things that needed doing. _Nobody_ yet wanted to admit the Reaper threat. _Not even after Bahak._

Private funding had also been explored and amongst the crew, everyone who knew anyone had pooled together their collective contacts for potential jobs that could help the Normandy run on its own whilst continuing to pursue the Reaper threat. There was money there, but not enough to run a ship like the Normandy... Not unless you were willing to shed a few morals to get it, and even the jobs that _looked_ fair and well-intentioned, often weren't on closer inspection.

For the time being, at least they had access to discounted parts and maintenance through Cerberus and they had access to their communications along with all their technological upgrades. It _was_ a calculated risk. No parts purchased through Cerberus went unchecked for sabotage or bugs by the Normandy's newly appointed security team: Tali, Kasumi, Thane, EDI and Legion, headed by Garrus, seconded by Miranda. That had however more than doubled the time for fitting replacement components, not least because Shepard allowed only Normandy crewmembers to do the repair work.

The Normandy had been in a sorry state after returning through the Omega 4 Relay, limping back with a bloody nose and a singed tail – it had been a hard job getting her fit to face the galaxy again. But before even approaching The Illive Man again, the newly appointed Security Team had pooled all their coding experience into upgrading EDI's software defence systems. All communications – _especially those from Cerberus_ – were now screened as if they'd been emailed straight from Harbinger. They upgraded everything they could think of in that respect and Shepard prayed that the day the Alliance _did_ eventually get the Normandy into their custody, that they didn't do anything stupid with it... _Or EDI... if it turns out there really is no way to get her safely off the ship beforehand._

Having finally made crucial repairs and with a dire need to secure funding, it was time to go out and raise some credits on their own. Nonetheless Shepard continued to deny the persistent worry in the back of her mind that she was well on her way to becoming a gun for hire – a _merc_. She'd been sulking about that ever since being stuck in this limbo, but then a thought occurred to her that made her smile: _Hey maybe we're the galactic equivalent of The A Team?!_ Pausing in the middle of reviewing an equipment order she grinned and amused herself with the thought: _Of course I'd be Hannibal_. Garrus would have to be Face of course (too many jokes missed otherwise), Mordin was assuredly the best candidate for Mad Murdoch. Who would be BA? _Wrex... if only the old bastard were here and not on Tuchanka –_ biggest toughest being she'd ever seen when they first met, but he was smarter than he looked and had a sense of wisdom few would expect to find in a Krogan. _Yeah definitely Wrex._

She read the request and approved it. _Another one done._ Looking at their itinerary for the next day or so there were a few errands to run, progress to be checked, messages to write,  more reports to write for the Illusive Man – she hadn't got out of _that_ , unfortunately... All that of course on top of reviewing data from crossing the Collectors, and from the dead reaper orbiting Mnemosyne, and any other information they'd managed to gather so far. There was a dire need to know what the Reapers might do next, or worse if there might be more Reaper... _things_ (all artefacts were dangerous – space vessel or not) lurking around the galaxy that needed to be taken care of. Doubtless there were plenty of those. _Are there other staging areas?_ She also had to wonder... what new horrors they might cook up as ground troops now that Husks and Collectors appeared to be insufficient.

 _Mergings of machines and multiple organic sources into hideous hybrids devoid of all but the wish to obey their masters, to kill on their command..._ She had been unable, until very recently, to discern  those images from the jumble of information injected into her brain from the Prothean beacons. Slowly... her mind was getting better at pulling apart the multiple threads of multiple stories and warnings interlaced and woven over one another that the messages contained. That... was the latest one, and it chilled her to the bone. She shuddered at the thought, and tried to set it to one side.

 _The images from your latest Prothean beacon encounter are most disturbing, Shepard, but like you it will take me some time to sort them out. I'm sorry I can't do more to help. At this stage, the best we can do is just keep trying to understand them, then maybe share our ideas later..._

There were _some_ things Shepard had shared – was _able_ to share – only with Liara. Things that she could tell nobody else for fear of them seeming ultimately unbelievable. Liara was the only living being in the galaxy who believed, _because she knew it to be true_ , that the visions Shepard claimed to have received from Prothean artefacts were authentic and not just Shepard's imagination. There were times she really missed Little Blue's insights... But more than anything she missed just having someone who knew the things she could not yet say aloud – like that one.

The notion of multispecies weaponized synthetic-organic hybrids was one that had to be seen to be believed. Nobody alive today would recognise that's what they were anyway, for who would know the names of sentient species whose presence had been wiped from the galaxy fifty thousand years ago, but someone who had shared the thoughts of an alien mind who lived and known them at that time? Doubtless Liara would be working out that latest horror for herself in the month or so since Shepard had last visited, when she had (in private) shared with her the visions she had received from the Prothean video terminal on Joab.

In the absence of Liara, Shepard thought about telling Zaeed... for all of about three seconds before she decided against it. _How could he begin to believe me? How could he even try?_ She really wasn't sure he'd ever be able to believe her, even if he wanted to. Maybe she would one day, but for now... she would have to endure the aftermath of involuntary images flashing into her mind - and all the implications from them that she was piecing together - alone. She sighed...

 _But you're not doing this alone Shepard –_ Liara's words recalled and a moment's unbearable burden was abruptly made easier: _I know I can't be with you – I have my own responsibilities now as the Shadow broker. But don't think for a second that you're alone in this. I will help as much as I am able to, from a distance that will keep us both safe._

Shepard smiled, grateful. Liara had kept to her word on that. Knowing of the Normandy's return and discovering the change in their status with Cerberus, Liara was already doing what she could to help, without it looking like The Shadow Broker had an agenda. Exchanges of money had been ruled out, being too easy and obvious a thing to cause questions to be raised, so instead Liara was now helping them hunt for missions that would be both ethical and lucrative (which wasn't easy). _Think of the devil..._ 'New message from Liara T'Soni' flashed up on the screen.

Going to her inbox, Shepard caught the title of the job and raised an eyebrow in sudden disbelief. It was so bizarre, in fact, that she found herself muttering aloud: "What the hell..?" – hearing the telltale click of EDI pausing to consider whether or not that was a question _she_ was expected to answer. EDI guessed correctly and closed the contact. Shepard internally tallied one more mark in EDI's good books, and then focused again on the work request. She still had to re-read the title twice more just to make sure she wasn't going completely mad:

" _Rescue mission for Chiri, pet fara of Matriarch Surethena, Illium..."_

If that message hadn't come straight from Liara with her _personal_ recommendation, Shepard would have binned it for the sender being stark raving mad. That Matriarch was either going senile or had way, _way_ more money than sense if she was willing to pay the cost of recruiting the entire crew of the Normandy to get her pet back. Whatever a 'fara' was, Shepard wasn't sure so she did a quick extranet search to find out. Well... it didn't _seem_ to be a dangerous species...

She asked EDI to run the necessary checks as she read the mission brief in full. Not that she didn't trust Liara's own checks of course... It was just that protocol was protocol and EDI did sometimes have a novel perspective, same as Legion or anyone else she leaned on for secondary opinions from time to time. Never again did she want to find out in retrospect that a mission was a trap for her team or the ship or her crew. Twice was enough. _And I will never again leave the Normandy without a strike team onboard._

If this mission checked out, they'd go for it. She couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity. If the Blood Pack had resorted to pet-napping then they had been harder hit by her efforts over the past year than she'd thought. Then she thought of her own predicament – desperate enough to be contemplating taking on a pet-napping rescue mission – and stopped laughing. _Hmph. Pay had better be genuine..._ She made the arrangements. After running a few errands along the way, the Normandy would drop into the system just in time for her shift to start tomorrow – perfect timing.

Finally Shepard's shift ended with the last straggler returning to the ship after shoreleave ( _Donnelly – who else would it be?!_ ). Content with the fact that everyone was now back on board safely, she left Garrus in charge. Miranda was next, then duty would cycle back round again to Shepard again. She headed up to her quarters – perhaps a quick shower was in order to ease the tension in her neck and shoulders? That was the only problem with spending the whole day working from the conference room. She worked there from time to time, just to give herself a 'home to go to' when she finished – somewhere that wasn't where she had just spent the whole day working.

Walking into her quarters (which she had been in a hurry to leave this morning) and seeing the aftermath of the night before, Shepard couldn't help but crack a smile despite herself. Truly it had shaken her – that _almost_ moment when she'd nearly abandoned her duties for the pursuit of personal pleasure. Thankfully having had the day and her duty hours to herself, she had again managed for find her confidence. He hadn't followed. He hadn't pestered. He hadn't arrived unannounced for a 'lunch break'... Zaeed had (surprisingly) behaved himself, and she had managed to focus on her job. She had proved to herself that self-control was within her grasp, that she wouldn't let anything else stand between her and her responsibilities.

She nodded with that internal self-assertion. Taking a deep breath, she then caught the fragrance of the flowers - one of the few things in her quarters still intact and undisturbed. Their scent brought back a legion of memories that set her pulse to skip a beat. She blew out the breath and stood with her hands on her hips, setting her heart to a more even pulse. _Shower? What I need is a_ _cold_ _shower..._ She shook her head, stripped off her clothes and dumped them on the floor (plenty of other things would need to go in the wash so she may as well save them for the imminent pile she would be making).

Stepping into the shower, _that_ was when she finally allowed her mind to recall _all_ those guilty pleasures. She turned and allowed the water to pour over her skin, remembering how Zaeed's fingers had done much the same last night... and more... How he made her want to beg for him to fuck her... How he'd finally parted her with his fingers and then slowly, slowly... slid himself inside her. _'...If you're really sure they're hiding something you order an internal search'_ \- he'd said. _O_ _nly thing I'm hiding is how much I want you inside me -_ she'd thought in response, but he granted her wish before she could speak it.

Then she remembered how eventually, several repeats of _that_ later... He'd nearly made her fall over from orgasm. It was like nothing she'd ever felt before - nothing between them. _Did that really make so much difference?_ Zaeed had found ways to make her more sensitive down there than she ever knew she could be... _But that's not going to happen again,_ she told herself sternly - at least not unprotected sex.

Shepard knew she should be sterile from military intervention (she'd volunteered for it), and she doubted that she could be anything else after having been dead for two years and having all manner of synthetic materials binding her body together. Still habit was habit, and she didn't like taking any chances – even impossible ones. There was also the necessity to teach Zaeed some rules. She didn't much mind him being in control during sex – he pleased her well enough for her to have zero reason to complain – but that had been something nobody should do, without mutual consent. _And I don't trust myself not to want it once he starts..._ Was the other reason.

Shepard had lived her entire life having a sound justification for everything she'd ever done, even her mistakes. She knew always that she had done the best she could possibly do at any given time in her life with the information she'd had available to her, and the intuition she'd built upon the knowledge she'd acquired. It was the first time in her life – that moment – when she could not have justified her choice in retrospect: she had _allowed_ him to continue. She _hadn't_ stop him when she should have, and that set more alarm bells ringing.

The Reaper threat, once discovered, had been a final justification for the pattern of her life's activities. It was so huge a revelation that she had known that it would govern her every action until the day she died, like she was born to do it. In fact she almost believed it was fate, but that meant that the pressure not to drop the ball now was immense. To now suddenly admit that this was _not_ all that she was made for would beg into question the many extremes to which she'd gone to in order to do what she had thus far done for that cause.

Her mood grew colder still as she dabbed herself dry with the towel. More logical thoughts aired themselves: _Losing friends in battle is bad enough. It would probably be better for both of us to quit the whole thing now_. _After all: the upset and upheaval will only be greater the longer we leave it_. _And I_ _have_ _to focus on the Reapers. I can't not. I'm the only one. The only one who really knows..._

Setting one foot outside the bathroom she had to hold her arm out to steady herself on the frame, as thoughts from the Prothean beacons flooded her mind and senses. It took great effort to push them back, to yank her mind back to here and now where she was human, where the events she had seen transpire through alien eyes... had not yet happened in this cycle. _Probably because I was thinking about them earlier, and about sharing them with Liara._ The trigger did not matter. What mattered was that she was once again left with a terrible burden: to be the one who'd _seen_ first hand, who _knew_ what was coming and had been charged – by those that went before – with the task of preventing it from recurring. _Break the cycle._

That was the one thing Liara said she _couldn't_ share. Built as Asari minds were for intermittent telepathic symbiosis, they had a very clear definition and identification of 'self'. There was just no way for her mind to confuse – as Shepard's did – thoughts of her own from the thoughts of someone whose mind she connected with. It was what had allowed Benezia to partition herself once she recognised the influence of indoctrination. Horrified as Liara might be by the thoughts she had shared through Shepard from the beacons, she would always know they belonged to someone else, even when thinking them over.

 _But..._ Shepard reminded herself: _there is hope in that burden._ Shepard carried the urgency of action as if it had been her very own people in those visions. When Vigil had offered her a viable course of action she had not hesitated to use it, ploughing through a horde of enemies on Ilos in one final run to take a Mako through an untested miniaturised mass relay to kill Saren, save the Citadel, and postpone the Reaper invasion. When Cerberus revived her from being two years dead in a smoke-filled lab on a burning space station she had not hesitated, and she had not hesitated when The Illusive Man had handed her a ship and a crew and a face-off against the next arm used by the Reapers: the Collectors. When the Reapers were set to invade via the Bahak system she had not - in the precious seconds left - hesitated to destroy a Mass Relay and every living thing in the system to stop them.

There was hope. She just never expected to find herself wanting for anything else. After all, how could she know the Reapers existed and find sanctuary in anything other than their destruction? How could a mind be that conflicted?

She picked up stray objects from the floor outside the bathroom (trying not to think about how they got there) as she returned them to their proper places on her desk, feeling suddenly alone. That hadn't been so bad a feeling before now. She was often alone and had been many for years before she even heard of some jerk named Saren Arterius. It was a normal thing that had bothered her little... until she knew she didn't have to be that way, and that there was someone – as she recalled his words _"No, I_ _expect_ _you to take me seriously..."_ – who sincerely seemed to _want_ to keep her company... And right now he was waiting for the opportunity to do so. _So now instead of just being alone, I feel lonely. Damn him._ _  
_

She thought of trying to detach her emotions from the physical satisfaction and respite of his company... From the times she had shared thoughts with Liara, and Alliance training she'd endured learning how to resist torture, she knew that was probably something she could do. _That_ might work as a means to retain her focus on those all important galaxy-changing motivations she wanted to prioritise... But it just felt too much like abuse when she remembered the emotional pain she'd seen portrayed on his face and the fragile, hopeful, smiles that he'd quickly hide away whenever she caught them. _I can't just use Zaeed and then discard him like some unwanted toy!_

In any case, the truth was she knew damn well she wanted more than that. But she did have to wonder: _Surely he's wizened enough to have_ _some_ _grasp of the risks – surely he knows whatever we could have together, he's going to lose it in the end?_ Then the thought suddenly struck her:

 _What if he's already weighed all that up... and decided he_ _still_ _wants it?_

The idea that Zaeed - who had already lost all of that once, partly because he himself had _personally_ fucked it up – was nonetheless willing and unafraid to try again... shamed her. That he would be burned, and be willing to be burned again. Was that stupidity or courage? Or was it something else? Every time she thought of the smiles she saw that he gave to nobody else, the portrayal they made of him - both serious and kind... She felt as if her very soul was resonating, like she knew him as if she'd always known him, as if she'd known him before all the scars and all the war stories.

But he hadn't married 'saving the galaxy' before meeting her. She had.

She sighed. She was stuck, and Shepard didn't _do_ 'stuck'. She rounded the corner of the coffee table to pick up stray petals that had fallen on the floor near the foot of the bed, but just then something glittered and caught her attention near her bedside table. Approaching the object she realised it was a piece of jewellery – a simple but sturdy gold chain. Instantly she knew to whom it belonged. Her heart skipped a beat and knew that _that_ reaction alone meant a lot of things. She hesitated for a moment, then scooped it up and stared. Walking over to the fish tank, she dangled the shimmering metal in the blue light. Tzu, her Illium Skald Fish, was drawn to the glass of the fish tank as she did so –always the most curious of her pets. She smiled at him, looked back at the chain as she coiled it into her palm. Turning it over she found a worn and almost illegible inscription on the clasp. Tracing it with her fingertips she read the words:

" _For you, Zaeed, on your 22_ _nd_ _birthday. Always come home to me, Love Alice."_

Shepard's stomach clenched and a coolness swept over her like someone had just stepped on her grave. _Coming home,_ she remembered, _was exactly what he'd been doing the night he lost her._

Zaeed had virtually been in tears the evening he told her that story... Her fist tightened around the chain as she recalled that image. She shook her head and reminded herself that this was something that should be returned to its owner as soon as possible – it might well hold great sentimental value. Alice, from all Zaeed had spoke of her, had sounded like a kind-hearted soul with gentle manners. How Alice had ever wound up with a scoundrel like Zaeed surely was at the time, Shepard could barely begin to fathom... But she must have loved him, and (albeit possibly a little too late) he had loved her _. He wouldn't have kept that chain with him all this time otherwise, now would he?_

Dropping the chain into her pocket she finished tidying her cabin then headed down to the cafeteria for a meal, resolving to stop by the starboard cargo bay to give the chain back to Zaeed after that. Upon finishing her meal she decided, additionally, that he should have a right to visit Alice's grave again if he wanted to – before they went off on a mission to do anything... suicidal... again. She had the impression that the first time he went to visit Alice's grave, he had not been in any state to really say good bye and let her go.

 _Everyone deserves the right to say goodbye. Might help him find peace, find a way to heal this old wound and finally leave it in the past if he_ _could_ _say goodbye, properly_. Who knows, maybe he'd decide afterwards that he didn't really want or need Shepard's companionship, and things might go back to how they were. Although... Was that what she really wanted to happen? If she were to be honest, that thought made her sincerely sad and almost made her feel like she did not, in this instant, want to give him that option. _No. He needs that goodbye_ _regardless_ _of what follows thereafter. Crew comes first and he's crew, so get on with it._

Mind on business, she returned her tray to Gardner and headed down to the engineering deck. Stepping into the cargo bay she was relieved to be greeted with a familiar sound and a familiar sight. He was leaning against the wall in his usual spot, fully armoured, sharpening one of his many knives.

"Back for more?" He scoffed, but there was wariness behind his eyes... Like he was half-joking about the now potential double meaning of his usual greeting to her but wondering if the answer to that question - in _that_ context - might be 'no'.

She stepped forward and smiled gingerly. "I... believe this is yours." She reached into her pocket and grasped the chain, holding it out to him as she let it dangle.

"Ah." He nodded and smiled broadly, instantly taking the edge off their meeting. There was a hint of sadness in his eyes but he quickly put that away behind brusque cheerfulness. "Thanks for bringing it back." He took the chain and held it in his palm, staring at it a moment before returning his eyes to hers, unreadable again.

It was good to see him relatively 'back to normal', although she always did find it funny how he'd rather lounge around in his armour and combat gear than change into more comfortable clothes. Garrus was just the same. The thought then occurred to her that both his hands were gloved and he might have difficulty putting the chain back on. Instinctively polite, she offered:

"Would you like me fasten that for you?" A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth – he knew it before she did; the physical proximity that would mean.

"Yeah. Alright." He said softly in a tone that made her spine tingle, then chuckled. "I can handle more than you'd think in this material..." He rubbed finger and thumb together of his rubberised-armour netted arm – _Another_ double entendre. He flexed and relaxed the fingers then added: "...but I'll admit putting this chain on'd be a tricky business." He dropped the chain back into her hands.

With half a nod and a half-smile Shepard undid the fastening and stepped forward. "Oh sorry..." she said just as Zaeed began to lean forward. "Could you turn around? It'll be easier to do if I can see what I'm doing." Having his face near-buried in her breasts was _not_ really how she wanted to handle the topic of offering to take him to visit Alice's grave.

"Urm..." Zaeed paused – evidentially a little surprised (or disappointed) by that statement – before straightening up and pushing off the wall. "...Sure. No problem." He mumbled, turning around. It was then that Shepard belatedly realised that he actually _was_ too tall for her to do that, at least when he was wearing his combat boots and armour whilst _she_ was in her smartwear casuals and thin-soled boots. She was clearly not going to get it done without balancing on tiptoe, which would make her unsteady and liable to knock into him and... _Damn it. He'd think that me was flirting then, wouldn't he?!_

With embarrassment she tried not to laugh. "Sorry." A small snigger escaped her lips. "Ahem. Umn. Stop... You'll have to turn around again..."

"What? Why? Make up your bloody mind woman..." Zaeed muttered, trying to sound annoyed but failing. He did manage to stop himself from grinning, though.

"I uh... keep forgetting you're a little taller than me... In those boots. Those boots make quite a difference." She could come up with nothing better. So he was leaning forward again. Reaching her arms behind his neck and cocking her head to one side, she felt for the fastening...

"Sure. Easy to forget." He spoke into her shoulder. "Not like you've come here talking to me in civvies a dozen times before now or anything..." She ignored his grumbling and gave him a look of 'quit complaining' as she cocked her head all the more for the right angle, using her eyes to make sure she got the clasp into the right loop. "Short arse." He murmured.

That got a raised eyebrow and a sour face from Shepard and she pulled her head back to scowl at him: "What did you just call me?"

"Hm? What? Me? Nothin'. Ahem. I was just clearing my throat." He'd turned his head towards her and leaned in just a little – _just_ enough catch a whiff of her hair... just for sake of all the memories that came with it. _Wonder if she'd get her knickers in a twist if I borrowed one of her shirts..._

Annoyed, she found she had to faff with the clasp – the spring apparently didn't work so it had to be closed manually. She managed it though:

"There. Done." She smiled. He hadn't touched her, she was impressed... but his hands hovered near her waist for just a moment and she had in that same moment felt his breath upon her neck. She gulped.

"Actually..." She hesitated as she dropped her arms. "There _was_... something I wanted to talk to you about." She let the chain fall to his collar and took a small step back as she cleared her throat.

Having sensed a change in her attitude, Zaeed stood up straight. "Oh?" He looked elsewhere as he began to tuck the chain under his rubberised collar, for the moment partially distracted.

Shepard took a breath: "Look. I know things have moved pretty fast between us..." Shepard was about to launch into a dignified, well-reasoned statement where she would point out that Alice was more than likely still close to his heart, that maybe their rushing into things had been a bad idea, that he needed time to heal... But of course, she never got past the first pause for breath before he interjected:

"Bit late to take things slow now don't you think? Besides. I don't do things by half measures." _Counter statement_. Zaeed leaned with his back to the wall, arms folded, looking down at her through half-lidded eyes. The tone of his voice carried warning, like the soft growl of a guard dog. _I'm too old for games, Shepard._ She couldn't really blame him for that.

"So I noticed." She smiled and sighed, rubbing the back of her neck before she folded her arms and looked (a little up) at him. It was oddly charming the way he had so aggressively leapt to the defence of ... _'us'..._ Although what he imagined he could do to keep their relationship going if she wanted to end it was anyone's guess. She walked across the bay and planted her ass on the table, her hands supporting her as she leaned back, crossing her legs at the shin. She sighed again and shook her head. "I read the inscription, Zaeed."

He frowned, but said nothing. Sober and unreadable again, he only nodded. After a moment he shrugged: "And?" – it was clear he was still guarding something.

"You kept that chain with you all these years. I'm guessing it must mean a lot to you."

Zaeed sighed loudly and shifted his weight as he leaned back. _Probably not what you think, smartarse... but let's see where you take this._

Shepard tried again: "You said that you never got the chance to say goodbye to her." Zaeed only responded with blank silence. Shepard found herself imagining what it would be like if she ever actually tried to get the man to go to counselling... _Not going to make this easy is he?_ Zaeed placed his hands on his hips and turned a little to one side. He huffed, sighed another exhaustive sigh, then stared out of the window, into the stars:

"I visited her grave but... No... I didn't say 'goodbye'. Not properly. Too angry... I s'pose." His dropped his head and shrugged. "Are you going to wind your way to a point any time soon Shepard? Because if not I was thinking of getting some dinner..." He was getting none too fond of this poking and prodding, and if she was just going to use this as grease to ease her calling quits on their 'fling' (if that's all it was to her), well then...

"She clearly meant a lot to you, and I..." Zaeed's irritation was audible as he let our another sigh, but Shepard was determined that this was something that needed to be offered: "I was wondering if maybe that'd be something you'd like to do – as in, visit her grave."

He was still uncomfortable but she could see that something eased, like that hadn't been what he had expected her to say. He only nodded, and half-turned, just enough to give her a grateful half-smile. "Thanks for the offer."

"I'm serious Zaeed. Just say the word and we'll go, alright?"

"I'll think about it."

"Fine. Do that. Just... Don't take too long to decide you want to go. Can't be long now before we have to go be 'big goddamn heroes' again." She jested with an imitation of his body language from that time he'd said it when they first met, and he smiled at that. It was an honest smile, but... he was still sober.

"Shepard the chain... it... isn't what you think." For just a fraction of a second there was pleading in his expression.

She leaned back against the table as before. "Zaeed..." She cocked her head to one side, then gently shook it from side to side: "It's OK." _Of course he still cares about her. How could he not?_ She didn't want him to feel like he had to break from that attachment in order to authenticate and legitimise his interest in her, now.

Zaeed rolled his eyes. _She thinks I care for the dead more than the living. Stupid woman._ "You never asked me _why_ I left it in your quarters." _Smart as smart could be but dumber than a brick wall._

Shepard was slightly taken aback. _Did he just imply he actually_ _meant_ _to leave it in my quarters?_ She half-squinted her eyes with suspicion: "Well I _had_ assumed you just forgot it..."

"Hah!" Not a friendly laugh. More a 'you've just been had' laugh. Zaeed turned a disapproving stare to her as he stepped closer, leaning a fist on the table edge as he slouched half a metre away from her. "You really think I'd be that careless with something you suppose is that precious to me?"

Shepard looked at him sideways and folded her arms. "You're saying you didn't forget it?"

"Seemed like a good way to leave the ball in your court – I knew you'd drop by when you felt ready, and how you reacted to it might tell me a thing or two about where this is going." Zaeed crossed his arms and jutted his jaw. Through half-lidded eyes he looked down at her and added with a shrug: "Of maybe it was just a good way to get you down here..." He gestured with a hand. That sly smile was back, hiding all again. No way to be sure which of those answers was the real one, but he was assuredly flirting.

"Uhuh." She took a moment to absorb the confession – if that's what it was – that he had in fact left it there on purpose. In any case, she had brought to the table what she had wanted to – to offer him a visit to Alice's grave. She was relieved, in a way: if he was willing to use it as a prop, well perhaps it really didn't mean quite as much to him as she'd worried. She smiled and took the bait:

"Alright. So assuming it _wasn't_ just something you did to get me down here... what do you _think_ you've learned?" Shepard raised a brow, and a doubtful smile.

Zaeed shook his head and pulled a sour face. "Don't give Shepard fuel for stupid notions, for starters. After that, it's difficult to be sure." He watched carefully as Shepard unfolded her arms and rested her palms on the edge of the table. It was a gesture that put her physically closer to him and Zaeed recognised an invitation when he got one. Slowly he placed his hand down next to hers and slid towards her along the edge of the table. When she didn't flinch he eyed her up and down like he were checking the wiring on a bomb he was about to try disarming:

"Not always easy to work out what a woman wants."

"Oh I don't think you have _that_ problem Zaeed." The silk was back in her voice again before she even realised what she said was going to come out that way. He edged closer still. Shepard wore a Cheshire Cat grin that faded into a curt smile. _All_ her body language was telling Zaeed that she wasn't pushing him away, but he still wasn't taking any chances.

"You're not an easy woman to figure out, Shepard." His voice was softer. His nose was within an inch of hers and his eyes were on her lips.

Shepard's heart began to pound as the part of her that was demanding some sense of order, formality, and _not_ rushing headlong into things was quietly subdued, gagged and locked in a closet. _Hell with it..._ She brought her hand up to tug at his chest armour as she pulled his lips to hers in a long, passionate kiss.

She's pulled him off balance enough that he had to suddenly find the table to brace his hands upon, but he quickly used that to his advantage. Sandwiching her against the table as he leaned his body up against her he abruptly thought to himself: _Might actually have to stop wearing my armour if she's going to pay me visits like_ _this_ _..._

She shoved him away enough to break the kiss, and all his thoughts derailed. Then she asked a raised brow and a half-smirk: "Fine then - what does _that_ tell you?" She was beginning to breathe harder.

"That I'm a very, very lucky man?" His mind was racing. All kind of thoughts asserted themselves as he thought about how and where in this room he could find to fuck her, as he kissed her back with even greater enthusiasm. She had to hold onto his armour just to stop herself from falling backwards. He pulled away just long enough to add: "Hell honestly I dunno – I'm just glad you're here..." – before smothering her with another kiss. He pulled her close and hoped to high heaven she _was_ going to let him fuck her in the imminent future...

He was onto a good thing with Shepard, he was sure of it, and he'd go to Hell and back before he'd let go of it. _When an old dog decides it's got its teeth into something worth holding onto, he damn well won't let go of it without a fight_...

It was possible Zaeed might never tell Shepard the _whole_ truth about why he'd left that chain from Alice in her quarters last night. He  had meant it to be an excuse for her to come meet him again when she was ready... but there was a little more to it than just that. Alice had bought that chain for him a year into their relationship. He used to take the chain off whenever he was with another girl, because even though he never admitted it at the time, he actually _did_ feel guilty for cheating on her. Eventually she got under his skin enough for him to stop playing around with other girls, but that just meant it burned - wearing that chain after that. Even worse after the night he'd thought her dead.

She'd never known he'd slept around. She was just grateful that he showed her any kindness at all... and in the years that followed that had made him feel sick as a dog. Thinking she'd died trusting him and never knowing what a son of a bitch he'd been to her behind her back, made him _so_ mad. Her love - which he later so desperately wanted – had been a lie, even if _she_ had never known it. It had been a lie because she had loved a lie – a man who according to his character would _never_ have cheated on her... Not Zaeed. That wasn't who he was back then. And by the time he was that man, it was too late.

That gold chain had from the moment he'd thought her dead, been his private curse, his cross to bear to remind him that some things come at too high a price. He wore it to remind himself that when you've got something _that_ goddamn good you shouldn't bloody screw it up. He'd worn it every time he'd shagged another woman ever since...

Until last night.

Last night was the first time since he'd thought Alice dead that he'd ever even taken it off. But the thing about it was that he hadn't taken it off because he felt guilty. He'd taken it off because... for the first time in his life since then... he _didn't._


End file.
